Chapter 2

The darkness gave way to disorienting awareness after what seemed like an eyeblink, but was in all likelihood several hours later. He was seated in a soft armchair, bound to it with ropes, but no longer petrified, surrounded by an array of unfriendly faces. His left shin felt like he'd recently banged it on a piece of furniture or been kicked, a headache was blooming behind his eyes, and his right hand throbbed in time to his heartbeat. No one had apparently bothered to uncurl his clenched fist and the shard of glass was still there feeling like it had taken up residence inside his skin.

On the pretext of shifting to get more comfortable in the chair, Harry relaxed the muscles in his fingers, restoring the blood flow, and releasing a new wave of pain. At least he still had a weapon.

One of the watching faces moved forward as he shifted, extending a hand to Harry's chin as if to pry open his mouth. Harry automatically clenched his teeth, pressed his lips together and attempted to turn his face away. The reaching hand jerked his face back towards its owner who snarled down at him, "Who are you?"

Harry's eyes widened. Sirius Black, his godfather, the man who'd died in the Department of Mysteries almost a decade ago leaving no body behind, was glaring at him. If his jaw hadn't been clenched, it wouldn't surely have dropped in the first few seconds of recognition.

What the hell was going on?

"Here, give him this first." Harry jerked his head around to stare at the second voice.

A man with shaggy dark hair and round glasses.

His father. Of course. Why not have everyone who was supposed to be dead pop up? At this point Harry half expected Ginny and Ron move into view and ask to go flying with him.

James Potter looked a bit older than any photo Harry had seen of him, his scowling

expression emphasizing the differences between this living man and the smiling, carefree photos Harry had memorized. He was taller than Harry had imagined and carried several extra pounds around the middle and there was a sprinkling of grey creeping into his hair around the ears, but despite those small changes, he was still distinctly James Potter.

Harry wrestled down the hysterical laughter that threatened to bubble up.

The wand shoved between his lips returned his attention to his godfather. Sirius muttered a phrase and Harry's jaw muscles immediately fell slack, dropping his mouth open. An eye dropper appeared and Harry felt three drops of cool liquid fall onto his exposed tongue. A gurgle of protest was ignored as Sirius stepped back with a final swish of his wand, returning control of his jaw to Harry. He immediately snapped it closed once again, but with a helpless, sinking feeling. The damage had been done. Already the warm, fuzzy sensation he always associated with being drugged with Veritaserum was creeping through his mind.

He hated being drugged. He'd take a solid Crucio over being drugged any day. Unfortunately, no one ever asked him.

"Why did you attack Lily?"

"James! Give it a minute to work." Sirius huffed at his friend, "And we're supposed to ask his name first."

Harry struggled against the compulsion to speak. He had only been dosed a few seconds; he shouldn't be forced to answer yet! But even that thought was becoming faded and distant. The knowledge that the potion could not be resisted trickled like skeletal fingers along his spine. Throwing off the Imperious curse had never helped him much with the truth serum. Which was why he was never the secret keeper to the Order's latest bolt hole.

"Why did you attack Lily?"

Harry opened his mouth before his brain had even fully processed the question. "Because I figured she was a Death Eater."

There was a pause and Harry's eyes drifted to the ceiling. Were there cobwebs up there? Too bad his eyesight was too poor to see something like that. The vaulted ceiling seemed like the kind of place spiders would hang out.

"What the hell is a Death Eater?" This question was voiced by Sirius and again Harry's mouth engaged before his mind did and an answer tumbled out.

"A follower of Voldermort."

A longer pause this time and somewhere in the back of Harry's mind alarm bells were screaming for attention. These weren't the right question for the interrogation. That same distant consciousness was ordering his eyes to stop staring at the ceiling and start paying attention to the facial expressions of the people around him. He was missing their reactions! He would look at them in just a minute, of course, but just now the ceiling was actually fairly interesting…

"Voldermort? Sounds like a weird muggle rock band or something." Sirius was speaking again, sounding more confused than anything.

"Sounds like German or Russian word. Not English, certainly. Perhaps he's referring to a cult?" Ah, Harry was pleased to hear that the Headmaster was also around. Sounded like he was behind Harry. He wondered if he tilted his head back far enough if he could see him or if the chair would get in the way. He'd missed the old man. Why hadn't he seen him in so long? Oh, yeah - because he was dead.

"What is Voldermort?"

What an interesting question. What was Voldermort, really? Was he still considered human? "He used to be human, but I'm not sure he counts anymore. Probably he's still mostly human. And a little bit dead too." If several pieces of a soul were destroyed, then that person would be slightly dead, right? "Might be part snake. Or part inferius? I don't really know."

Lily burst out, "Are you insane?"

"Nope!" Harry cheerfully replied, but Lily talked right over him.

"How can someone be 'a little bit dead' or 'part inferius'? There's no such thing!"

He was pretty sure these were rhetorical questions, but wasn't able to convince his lips of that and they answered anyway, "He used to be human, but his soul was broken in pieces and in the end none of them were left in his body, which died, but then someone gave him a new body and a piece of his soul animates it, but I'm not sure if he's really alive now or not."

Sometime during this speech his eyes had drifted down to his captors and so he was able to see that the three faces before his were gaping at him as if he were crazy. He was beginning to wonder if they weren't correct about his sanity. Nothing had made sense since that spell Avery had hit him with and the idea that he'd been driven clear out of his mind was starting to look more and more likely. It would explain so much. But he still didn't quite believe that, as evidenced by his clear denial of insanity a moment ago.

Dumbledore moved out from behind Harry and peered at him over his spectacles. "That sounds like very dark magic, my boy. Are you part of that?"

"NO!" Even being drugged on a potion that filled the world with a glowing haze of happy complacency, that idea was rejected with vehemence. He would never follow that murderous madman. Never.

Apparently his adamant refusal was convincing as the Headmaster straightened back up, "Although I believe this 'Voldermort' person deserves some follow-up, I think we are getting a bit off topic. Now, why did you believe Lily Potter was a, I believe the term was 'Death Eater'?"

Wasn't the answer obvious? "She can't be Lily Potter. Lily Potter is dead."

That garnered a reaction. James wand was pointing between his eyes before he could blink, "Was that a threat?"

"No," He absently responded. The wand hovering over his nose was a dark wood, polished to a shine. It had never occurred to him to ask anyone what his father's wand was made of before. What kind of wood was that dark? It kind of reminded him of coffee before the cream was added.

"James, calm down. We've only got fifteen minutes before the Veritaserum wears off." Lily placed her hand on James' arm and it immediately relaxed. "I don't know why he'd say something like that, but he's obviously mistaken."

"Yes," Dumbledore was stroking his beard and watching Harry with thoughtful eyes, "Yes, everything he has said so far is simply raising more questions. Perhaps we ought to start over and try to approach this from another angle."

Both James and Sirius nodded, although James was a bit slower in agreeing.

"What is your name?"

"Harry James Potter."

The response to that was even more dramatic than before. Sirius and both Potters exclaimed in shocked disbelief, talking over themselves in their effort to express themselves.

"That's impossible!"

"Harry doesn't look anything like that! I mean, I guess there's some resemblance, but-"

"I just saw Harry a couple days ago and everything was fine-"

"Harry wouldn't attack his own mother!"

"-where are his glasses? He wouldn't wander around without-"

"-Harry wouldn't do something like this."

"-he didn't even appear to know me until I said my name."

Dumbledore raised his wand and a small fountain of sparks crackled into existence, drowning out the commotion. As the others fell silent, he lowered his wand, "I believe we should clarify the situation a bit before we get carried away." He turned back to Harry whose focus was now on the spot where the colorful sparks has appeared, "Your name is Harry James Potter, correct?"

He nodded.

"Who are your parents?"

"James Potter and Lily Potter, formerly Evans."

Sirius awed voice interrupted the Headmaster's next question, "This has got to be the most elaborate prank you've ever pulled mini-prongs."

Another shocked pause fell before Lily bit out, "Harry Potter! If this is a prank, you are going to be grounded for the rest of your life! I don't care if you are an adult, that glass hurt! And getting your father called out like this? That's not funny at all."

"Siruis," James quiet voice interrupted her tirade, "Did you give him water instead of Veritaserum?"

All eyes, including Harry's swung toward the dog animagus, who just blinked back at them, "Wha-? Of course not! I didn't have anything to do with this!" He turned admiring eyes back to Harry, "But I wish I had been. This is the most elaborate stunt I think I've ever seen pulled. Did you put a glamour on to create those scars or did you go the muggle way and use make-up?"

Harry frowned. That had been a question, but neither answer was truthful. So he did not bother to reply.

James continued, "You can't fight that potion, Sirius, you know that. Everything…Harry," The hesitation before his name said more than any words could of his doubts on that point, "has said, he must genuinely think is true." Siruis seemed to deflate at this point, "He attacked his mother because he thought she was part of whatever that Death Eater group is, not because he wanted to prank her."

"But James," Lily tapped her husband's arm, her gazed fixed on Harry, "Look at him. I can see our boy there, but..." She leaned over and Harry flinched as she ran her thumb over the raised scar tissue crossing his cheekbone. "Those scars aren't cosmetic, and it's not a glamour either."

She pointed her wand directly at his face and before Harry had time to process the threat, she'd whispered a quiet finite spell.

Harry blinked as the gentle magic washed over his face, but nothing else happened. He wasn't wearing a glamour, or any other spells that he knew of, so the magic had nothing to remove. Lily looked disappointed.

James bent over to peer at his face and Harry felt an uncomfortable urge to squirm, despite the potion. He decided that if James stuck his hand out to touch him, Harry would try to bite a finger off.

"Those can't be real though. We just saw him a few days ago and these are far older than that." Here he paused but no one contradicted him. "Obviously there's something else going on here."

"I agree." Dumbledore clasped his hands behind as he too moved to peer at the scars on Harry's face. Then straightening up, he rocked up on to the balls of his feet, bouncing up and down in thought. Harry felt again that tug of familiarity. The old wizard had always been spry – how could anyone mimic the natural mannerisms of his old mentor so accurately? Harry also realized he had almost come down off the truth serum. The unnatural languor was rapidly disappearing as was the fog over his mind and with the renewed clarity came the return of his unease.

Whatever was happening, it wasn't going away and he was more and more convinced that he wasn't surrounded by actors in glamours. Which left…what? Some sort of spell that trapped him in a mental fantasy?

The headmaster apparently had similar thoughts

"Do you recall always being called 'Harry'?"

"Yes." The drug had faded enough that he felt he could elaborate, as long as he stuck to the truth, but he didn't want to draw attention to the fact that he was becoming more lucid so stayed quiet.

"Excellent. Alright, did you enter Hogwarts with the intention of attacking Professor Potter?" Harry replied in the negative and Dumbledore continued, "Did you come with the intention of harming, in any way, any of the residents of Hogwarts?" Harry simply shook his head this time. "Did you come of your own volition or did someone force or ask you to come?"

"I was forced."

The other adults shifted and a murmur of dismay arose from them.

"Do you remember how you got here?"

Harry frowned. The spell Avery cast… did he know for sure if it had transported him somewhere? If this was just a mental delusion, then that was certainly the cause, but if he'd been confounded or something and then later transported somewhere…

Apparently he took too long to answer because Sirius commented, "The Veritaserum's probably worn off. Should we dose him again?"

Harry grimaced. He'd been so focused on the weird interrogation that he'd stopped trying to escape. Quickly, before they drugged him again, he slipped the shard of mirror over towards the rope looping over his wrist connecting it to the armrest and started to saw at the bindings. He didn't have much hope of getting free before he was given another potion, but it was something.

"I don't think we should give him another dose." Lily told Sirius, "This is Harry. It's not like he'll lie to us."

"I disagree," James argued, "I'm not convinced it really is Harry. He just thinks he is."

Sirius nodded, "Yeah, and one more time won't hurt him."

Harry could testify to that. It would take almost two whole bottles of the stuff before he'd start getting sick to the stomach. Although he'd prefer that fact to remain unverified for a bit longer.

However, despite the bizarre, strangely pain-free and almost entertaining 'interrogation', he was ready to be done. Whatever Avery's curse had done, it certainly lived up to the 'surprise', but whether Harry was hallucinating this entire sequence of events, whether this was some elaborate hoax or whether he had somehow been genuinely transported to some time and place where his family was still alive, he had no intention of sitting still and letting them dose him again.

"Hey," He called to the still arguing adults, "Why don't we try having a reasonable discussion about this instead of pouring a potion down my throat. Maybe we can get to the bottom of this that way."

James and Sirius stared at him as if he'd suggested they should all do a waltz on the ceiling. Which was fine. He hadn't really expected them to agree, just wanted to buy a bit more time to work on his bindings before they drugged him again.

Surprisingly however, Lily nodded, "I agree. James, just ask without that." She motioned with her head to the tiny potion vial Sirius held.

Looking like he wanted to disagree, James nonetheless nodded to Sirius who stepped back a pace. Taking a deep breath, James turned to Harry and asked, "Alright, if you're really Harry, tell me something only you'd know."

"Like what?" Harry asked, stalling. What could he say to answer something like that? He didn't know these people – whether they were real or not. And the little he did know wouldn't likely be good enough. James played as Chaser at Quidditch in Hogwarts; Sirius was a dog animgus and spent twelve years in Azkaban and died at the Ministry of Magic; Lily had green eyes and a sister that hated magic.

"Where do I keep the shot glasses Sirius gives me every New Years?"

Now it was Harry's turn to stare. He had no clue how to answer that. Sirus gave James shot glasses? How long had that tradition been going on? Where would James keep them? The study? The kitchen? A special cabinet or trunk? Uncle Vernon had kept a shot glass they'd bought in Germany one year on a shelf in the entry hall. It was evidence of their 'cultured' image, even though Harry had always considered it a bit tacky looking.

"Look, James, this kid doesn't have a clue!" Sirius pointed out. "It's not Harry."

"But we already know his memory has been modified!" Lily countered, "Don't ask what he might not remember, ask what he does remember."

"Fine." James rubbed his chin and Harry heard the scratch of stubble against his palm and fleetingly wished he had good enough eyesight to see that level of detail.

"What do you remember of us?"

Thinking rapidly, Harry calculated that the truth would do no harm. And might actually help, considering the turmoil some of his previous answers had brought. He was nearly halfway through the first loop of rope and no one had so much as glanced at his hands yet.

"James and Lily both died when I was one years old and-"

Unsurprisingly, this caused more shocked and disbelieving cries.

Dumbledore, however, simply watched him with intent eyes. "Harry," His quiet voice overriding the others, "would you be willing to submit to a Legimancy spell?"

"No." He promptly answered. And unless the old man had Voldermort's level of power and a direct link to his mind like the scar on his forehead, his Occulmancy shields would be more than adequate to repel an attack.

However, the headmaster didn't press the issue. Instead he asked, "Would you give us a Pensive memory?"

Harry blinked, fingers actually pausing their work. A pensive memory? That needed a wand. A person couldn't draw someone else's memories out, it had to be the person whose memories were being collected that extracted them. Would they trust him a wand? Suspicious, Harry nodded.

Dumbledore nodded in satisfaction. "We believe your mind has been tampered with, my boy." He told Harry, as if he hadn't been listening to everything that had said earlier, "Either you are, in fact, Harry Potter and someone has done something to make you forget growing up with your parents, or you are someone else who's been made to think you are Harry Potter when you are not. Either way, a Pensive memory will show if and possibly how your mind has been tampered with, and perhaps give us a clue as to what exactly should be done."

Although he'd considered that everything around him was a figment of his imagination, he hadn't seriously given any thought to the idea that his own memories might be false instead. They felt too clear, too vivid, too numerous. Could someone actually install a lifetime worth of memories, erasing a person's true past?

The uneasy feeling that had been gnawing at him ever since he'd arrived blossomed into full grown doubt. His eyes shot to Lily and James, both looking tense and uneasy. Then to Sirius' frowning face. What if what they were saying was true and it was him that was the problem? Could someone really have planted false memories – he remembered Sirius' death, Dumbledore's death, and yet they seemed very much alive right now…

Whatever was going on, he needed to be sure of his own mind. He needed that more than he needed to escape. Dumbledore wasn't lying about a Pensive's ability to show memory modification charms. If you entered a memory that'd been tampered with, it would appear fuzzy, with blurred backgrounds, and indistinct details.

"I will be entering the Pensive with you." Harry warned the Headmaster, unwilling to leave the verdict of what had happened to him up to someone else.

The man simply nodded as if he'd expected Harry to demand such a thing. He turned to a gilded cupboard behind his desk and removed a familiar looking caldron. It was the same one the Headmaster had used to show him Voldermort's childhood during Harry's sixth year, just months before his death.

The sight of it simply confirmed Harry's decision. He knew that pensive had been destroyed along with the rest of Dumbledore's office. His past and his present were not adding up and he needed answers.

A/N: Well, first of all, this chapter came about because, while I love the whole dimension travel / time travel cliché (and this story will no doubt be full of those clichés), most of them gloss over the transition. I mean, everyone accepts it so easily, so I thought I'd go into a bit more depth here. I know that if I suddenly found myself in a situation like that, even with magic at my disposal, I don't think 'Dimension Travel!' would be my first thought when there were simpler explanations available. So…yeah. And, since the idea of Harry going to an alternate dimension like this has been done so many times, don't expect this story to be brilliantly original. Hopefully it'll be different enough to be fun, but that's about all I'm going for. I'm writing what I'd like to read, after all.

Please be aware that this story has a much lower priority than my other one 'Dust the Scales', so updates will be very, very slow. However, I do plan to eventually finish it. It may not happen until you, my dear reader, have grandkids and have lost all interest in seeing what happens next, but it will happen.

I thank you very, very much for reading and for anyone who takes the time to review. Those notes of encouragement are treasured!