Chapter 2: The Other Reality
Well, this is something that just came to me. I don't know if it's going to go anywhere, but here it is. I am still having writer's block on all my other stories, so this coming up and biting me in the ass was a shock. If it goes somewhere, great. If not, bummer. I hope it does. These things can't be forced.
Leave me a review and tickle my muse. That gets me writing faster than anything else. It's the only pay I get.
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In the alternate reality the Boy-Who-Lived flexed his muscles. "I'm still here," he said. He looked around the common room and laughed. The reality was still here. It was something that shocked and amazed him. He looked over in the corner and saw Anyanka smiling at him. She winked and disappeared.
There was no Ron in sight though. The only redheads in the room were the twins, who were looking at each other with dismay. They thought they would be getting their sister back, but they had lost their brother instead. This was not what they wished for.
The two lookalikes looked at him and said, "What did you do with Ron?" They stepped menacingly towards him.
Fred looked at him and said, "First our sister, now our brother. What did you do with him? Where is the demon?"
"I didn't do anything with your brother. It was not my wish, it was his," Harry said defiantly. He stood his ground. He wasn't going to back down from them. He was stronger than both of them together. He had fought more than two at a time before on the streets and he could do it again.
"Where is that woman?" said George, looking around for the wish demon. "We'll get our brother back. We bested her before, we can do it again." He didn't see her anywhere. She was gone.
"I'd like to see you try," said Harry, a smirk playing at his lips. He liked the irony of the boy being gone due to his own wish. "I don't think she's going to hang around this time. If she's smart, she's gone. She has her power back and she's probably not going to hang around to lose it again." He loved the final outcome of this. There would be no going back this time. That Ron kid was not here to undo anything, and the twins were powerless to stop it.
"Now, boys, I do not think it's going to work this time," said Dumbledore, putting up his hands in a placating manner. He really did not want to admit it, but the demon had gotten the best of him this time. He was going to have to tell Molly she was down a son, and that was not going to be easy. Her howlers were legendary, and she had quite the set of lungs on her. Not to mention it was just a daunting task to tell someone that a loved one was gone.
Harry just laughed manically. He felt at the top of the world.
The kids in the common room looked at him as if he was crazy. They were unsure what to make of this boy. He did not comply with what they commonly thought of as a boy hero. He was supposed to be nice, quiet and compliant. He was gruff, ornery, and mean and he didn't take any shite from anybody.
"Don't you understand?" he said. "The boy got duped by his own wish. Now he's in his fairy tale world and you all are without him. And I'm left to pull you out of the fire. It's up to me to off your Dark Lords. What are you going to give me for it?" he asked, looking at them with a lofty air.
"What do you mean? What are we going to give you for it? Don't you want to do it just for a sense of propriety?" Neville asked with trepidation. Heroes didn't get paid; they just did what they did because it was what they were meant to do. Everyone knew this.
"Why the hell would I want to do that? I've been doing shite like that all my life. What other people tell me to do. I've been abused into doing that. I'm going to be paid for it from now on. You want me to do this shite, you're going to pay me for it," the would-be boy hero said with a bite of anger.
"Now, Harry, my boy," said Dumbledore, making calming gestures. "I'm sure that we can come to some conclusion where everybody will be appeased." He wasn't above paying the boy off. Or mind-whamming him into complying. He'd use that as a last resort though. If he got caught it would look bad. Paying him off was easier.
"Don't give me that shite, old man. You'll pay me or I'll be quit of this old school. I don't need to be here. You need me. I don't need you," the ripped teen said, folding his arms over his chest and staring defiantly at the old man. The scars on his face made him look more menacing than most teens would.
"Ohh, I think you need us just as much as we need you," said Dumbledore, looking over his glasses at the teen as if he knew something that no one else did and he was going to share it if the boy didn't comply. He had a tone of conviction.
"How do you figure that?" the scarred teen asked incredulously. He didn't need anyone. He was doing just fine on his own before these people came into his life.
"You have nowhere else to go," said the old man, smugly. He had found the boy on the streets after all.
"I was doing just fine on my own," said Harry, narrowing his green eyes in defiance. They dance in anger at the reminder that the man thought less of him for being a street rat.
"You were living on the streets," protested Dumbledore as if that were a given.
"And doing just fine," countered Harry. He had been doing okay there. He had a place to sleep, money in his pocket, and a part time job. He did okay.
"You were living out of dumpsters," said the old man with wide eyes. Like he couldn't believe what the boy was saying.
"And look at me," said Harry, gesturing to his figure. "Just look at me," he said. Showing off his muscles to the whole room. Then he pulled out a lot of money that numbered in the hundreds and showed it to everybody. "I have money. I have muscles. I have a name. I had everything I needed to get what I wanted. I don't need you." He pointed to the old man and then waved his arm around the room to indicate that he meant the magical world. He then pulled up his magical flame and showed it to them. "I have magic. I don't need this school," he added.
"You were on your way to prison," countered the old man as if that would change the perspective of the conversation.
"Three meals and a cot," said Harry with a shrug.
"That is not a way to live," said Dumbledore aghast. How could anyone think that? Then again, his idea of prison was Azkaban. Harry's wasn't.
"That's your opinion," said Harry, once more shrugging.
"If you had that much money, why were you living on the streets?" Hermione asked, wondering what a few were thinking. The boy had taken out what was equivalent to over a thousand pounds in bills.
"I couldn't rent due to my age," Harry explained, looking at her like she should know this. Then again, she was a pampered teen from an upper middle-class family, so perhaps not. "I was between friends at the time," he added, having been kicked out of the last house he was crashing at. There was a fight between him and the bloke that lived there. The man accused him of stealing and he disagreed. Harry won the fight but lost the right to live there.
He had enough money not to have to eat out of tips, but why spend it when he didn't have to. The restaurant tips left some good stuff at night. He ate at diners in the morning, but at night…
"Oh," was all she could say to that.
"Let us go to my office and we will reach a conclusion that will be beneficial to both of us," said Dumbledore, turning and leaving the Gryffindor common room.
They both went to Dumbledore's office to see if there was anything that could be resolved. Many hours of discussion and they finally came to the understanding that the headmaster would pay Harry for his time, but not as much as Harry Potter wanted because he would be living at the school and benefiting from the teachings of said school. Harry didn't think he got the better part of the deal, but he decided he would live with it for now. That and, he had a vault full of money at Gringotts. So, he decided it was a better part of valor.
When he went back to the common room, the people there were wary of him. They stayed away from him for the most part. Only Neville and Hermione were by his side. Hermione was simply reading, but Neville wanted to talk.
"I can't believe you decided to take money to take out the Dark Lord," said Neville as he sat across from the other boy. They were next to the fire, as it was cold in the castle. It was the beginning of November and winter was creeping up on them.
"I don't understand why you don't understand this," said Harry, turning to look at the round-faced kid. "Are you going to take out the Dark Lord?" he asked, knowing the answer. There was no one there willing to fight the menace in any way, shape or form.
"No, but I'm not the boy hero," said Neville, looking around the room and seeing everyone agree with him. There were nods and whispers in agreement everywhere, bar Hermione, who continued reading her book.
"What makes you think I'm any sort of hero?" said Harry, leaning forward honestly wanting to know the answer. The shirt he was wearing tightened as he did so, making some of the girls giggle. He was just that ripped. The scars on his face detracted from his looks slightly, but his shoulders more than made up for it.
"Well, you were born to be the hero," said Neville, confused about the question. It was a given after all. He'd been told all his life that the Boy-Who-Lived was the hero of the wizarding world. There were books written about him. It was a shock when he never appeared at Hogwarts during the first year. They thought maybe it was all hype then, now they knew it was all due to a wish and the boy really was a hero.
"And what makes me the born hero?" asked Harry, insistently. He still didn't understand why they thought that.
"Everybody says so," said Neville.
"And what leads everybody to this conclusion?" asked Harry, honestly confused. He didn't know the story behind the whole Boy-Who-Lived deal. He'd have to look into that.
"Well, uh, you see, uh, it's um. Well, you see it's uh…" Neville stammered.
"That's what I thought," said Harry and he looked around the common room, where everybody else looked just as stupefied. "Now listen up, you lot, I'm going to say this once and I'm going to say it once only. I am not your boy hero. I was not born to be a boy hero. I was not raised to be a boy hero. You want me to off your Dark Lords, I'm going to be paid to do it. End of story."
The room just gasped around him as he turned and walked up the stairs to his dorm.
The twins glared at him as he left. First, they lost their sister, then they lost their brother, and they had no idea how they were going to tell their mother that Ron was now gone. Even though it was his own foolish wish that made him disappear. It wasn't Harry's fault, per se, but it was his by extension.
Fred turned and looked at his brother and said, "I don't know what we're going to do." He was very concerned about this. He was torn up over the loss of another sibling, and the fact that his mum would feel the pain of it.
"I don't either," said George as he wiped angry tears from his eyes. "Mum is going to have kittens." He couldn't seem to stop crying over the loss, neither could Fred it seemed, as he watched his brother do the same.
"This might just kill her," said Fred, using his sleeve to dry his face.
"Not to mention Dad," said George, looking off into the distance.
"This is not a good time for our family," said Fred, sadness lacing his tone.
"Why does this have to happen to us?" asked George, leaning over and putting his head on his brother's shoulder for comfort.
"There's got to be a way to get Ron back," Fred said in denial. He hated to see George in such depression.
"I can't think of a way," the other twin said. He was so sad that there was nothing but defeat in his tone.
"Maybe it's better knowing that he's not dead and just in another reality," said Fred, hoping to cheer his brother up some. It might be better to look at it like that.
"There is that. I mean, technically he isn't dead," George said, perking up a bit.
"That's got to be some peace of mind," his brother said, sounding much happier that his twin wasn't sinking into depression. He just needed to keep that in mind. Ron wasn't dead, he was in a different reality. And it was a much better one than this one. There was no Dark Lord there that they knew of, and their sister was alive there. According to their brother, he had a best mate and was in a better position in life.
With that, the two of them got together and wrote the letter they dreaded writing. They sent it off with a school owl and waited. It was not something they wanted to do, but it was something that had to be done. They were unsure of what Dumbledore was going to say to their parents, but they wanted the words to come from their mouths as well.
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Harry Potter was in heaven. He had the world at his fingertips. Everybody was willing to do whatever he said to get whatever he wanted. Having grown up in an abusive home, having made the wish to turn his relatives into farm animals and then getting his way from there on. It was glorious.
Sure, he ran away and lived on the streets after they turned into farm animals, but who cared? He had the run of the streets. He fought his way up from the bottom and worked his way to the top. Look at him now. He was king. Now he had all these magicals fighting over him trying to make him out to be the top dog. They'd do just about anything to get him to do what they want.
He had girls fighting for his attention. He had boys that were jealous of him and wanted to be him. He had teachers practically bowing down to him, trying to get him to learn everything that he possibly could learn.
Of course, there was that Snape guy who hated his guts, but that was okay. He could take him in a fight. He was a slimy git.
He didn't have many friends. Not real friends. There was that Hermione girl. Though she wasn't really a friend, she was closer than anybody else. She didn't seem to want anything from him.
That left him a bit lonely.
But he had been alone all his life, so that was okay. He never had any friends growing up, Dudley made sure of that. Vernon and Petunia made sure of that, too. They made sure the neighbors knew that he was just a disgusting boy that was up to no good. A low-life criminal. He didn't know how a child could be a low-life criminal, but the neighbors bought it for some reason. Look at him now. He was one. That's okay. He just became what they thought he was. Perhaps to spite them, who knows.
On the streets, he was a bit of a pickpocket, though he did have a part-time job as a sweeper at a corner shop. It was under the table, since he was a minor. He was a good pickpocket and used magic more times than not. He didn't run with a gang and avoided them, mostly. He lived with some people now and then, mostly hookers who liked him and bought his story. Their boyfriends didn't like it much, but it was a clean place to stay, and kept him from freezing to death in the winter.
So here he was in the wizarding world, pretending to be some boy hero. Going after some Dark Lord. Rumor had it there were going to be two Dark Lords if he wasn't careful. He had to get rid of the younger one before the older one showed up. Which was speculated to be at the end of this year. That was according to Anyanka, before she disappeared. She had pulled him aside before she got her necklace back and warned him all about the up and coming Big Bad.
How to get rid of the younger Dark Lord?
He had told the truth. He had read all the books about magic that there was in the non-magical world. And he knew a great deal about it that these wizards didn't know. He knew magic was all about intent, and if you could think it, you could do it. So now all he had to do was think about how he could end the Dark Lord. What did he know about him? He knew he was a teenager just like him, a little older, about 19. He knew he was self-centered. He knew he had created Horcruxes. Well, the teenage version had only created one. And he had already used it.
He knew this from Dumbledore. He read it from his mind.
Yeah, he could do that.
However, he didn't know if the boy had created anymore. So, this Dark Lord was probably killable.
He didn't know about the one that was coming. The older one. He knew he had created more than one Horcrux from the reading of Dumbledore's mind. He also knew about the one in his forehead. He needed to get rid of that.
A simple cleansing spell. An ejection spell. Anything along that type of ritual would do.
He did not know why magicals made things so overly complicated. It was all about intent. He'd get it done over the weekend. It would be simple to do. He just had to find someplace to do it. He'd asked the house elves. They seem to know this castle in and out. He would just have to find them. They were crafty little buggers and knew how to hide. Still, all he needed to do was find the kitchens and they would be there.
As he was contemplating all this, the others in the common room were staring at him. They were whispering about him. They seem to be gravitating around him as if he were the center of their universe. He had only been there for a week now, and he was the focus of gossip. Things hadn't moved on from that. Ron was also a main topic of gossip. The fact that he had disappeared via his own wish was amazing.
The castle had been searched from top to bottom for Anyanka trying to bring the boy back. She was nowhere to be found. She was smart this time and had disappeared. Harry hoped she had learned her lesson and did this after all her wishes. Who knows how this would affect other timelines and other realities.
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While all this was going on in the castle, the Dark Lord was hearing about the boy hero that was now taking up residence in Hogwarts. He was not sure how he felt about this. The young teenage Dark Lord had his minions scurrying about to find out about what was going on with this boy hero.
"Blast you, morons. Can't you find out about one teenage boy?" he yelled at his minions. They were groveling on the floor around him as he threw out curses. He hit a few of them with the pain curse just to be contrary. He didn't want to be too vindictive, but he wanted to get his point across. "He has only been in this world for a week now. Why can you find me no news about him?" He really wanted to know about Harry Potter.
"But my Lord, there is no news about him at all. He showed up out of nowhere. He is of the muggle world. We have no connections there," said Crabbe Sr as the man groveled in front of the teenage Dark Lord.
The teen had shown up two years ago and took over the wizarding world with no effort at all. He just pushed his way into the circle of Death Eaters and used the Dark Mark and took over. Using Lucius Malfoy's death as a battle cry to take up the cause to take up arms and took over the Ministry. He ousted Fudge and was now running the whole of the wizarding world with an iron fist. There was pure blood propaganda being bandied about everywhere and the half-bloods and mudbloods were now lower-class citizens.
"Then find his connections there, damn it. There has got to be some way to find out where he came from. I need to know information if I am going to thwart him," said the Dark Lord, pacing in front of this thronelike chair. He didn't actually have a throne, but it was a close call.
"Yes, my Lord," said the fat man, getting up off the floor and running for the door, just wanting to be out of the room.
"Get out of my face!" Riddle screamed to the rest of the Death Eaters.
They all got up and headed out of the room with hurried steps. They didn't want to be around the Dark Lord when he was this volatile. He was still a hormonal teen that was quick to anger and not afraid to dish out punishment as he saw fit. Even when it was unwarranted.
The young Dark Lord continued to pace around the meeting room, thinking hard about what he knew about the young would-be hero. Which was just about less than nothing. He knew he was young; he knew he was muscular; he knew he was mean. That's all he knew. He appeared out of nowhere. He only knew this from one of his minion's sons, Nott.
If only Malfoy had not died in the basilisk attack. He and his son would been great minions to have. They were sneaky and conniving and would have been perfect in this situation. At least that's what their cohorts say. All the Death Eaters praise the two dead Malfoys. The junior Dark Lord didn't know the dead men, but he heard nothing but admiration about them.
Their money would have been helpful too. The wife had taken off to parts unknown. She was of no use to him now. Not that he had much use for helpless females, but the money would have come in handy.
But Nott was helpful. He was not nearly as conniving as they were rumored to be, but he was useful. His son was also in Slytherin. He was not close to the new boy hero. But he had his ear out for what was going on in Hogwarts. The rumor mill was strong as ever, and the boy passed on whatever was being said, no matter how trivial.
The only thing he knew was that a wish was made, and the boy appeared and that another boy disappeared. The Weasley Boy, the youngest, was the one who made the wish and was the one who vanished. That was trivial and probably had no consequence. At least he hoped not. Who knows what happens with these things.
Tom Riddle paced around, thinking more and more of what could happen with a would-be hero on the scene now. Where did the boy come from? What was he going to do? What were the consequences of this action? What was Dumbledore going to do now that the boy was there? Was he going to point the boy in his direction? Why was Harry Potter so important? He had to be important if the wish was made. Wasn't he? Or was he really? Was he getting worked up over nothing?
He needed more information. How to get it? Could he write to the child? Well, he couldn't really call him a child. He was only five years younger than him. Would writing to him be the thing to do? Maybe they could come to an accord. He didn't seem to be on the side of the angels. From what he could tell, from what Nott said, the boy had a mean streak. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could get him on his side. Yes, that might be the way to go.
With that thought in mind, he put ink to quill, and quill the parchment and set about writing a missive.
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Harry Potter was sitting in the Great Hall eating his breakfast when the owls came in to deliver mail. He had never received any post before, so he was greatly surprised when an owl landed before him. He looked at it with some concern and took the letter from the owl and opened it and then started laughing uproariously. That caused everybody around him to look at him with great concern. He was laughing so hard that he almost fell off his seat.
Hermione looked up from her book for the first time in a great while. "What's got you in such a tickle?" she asked, speaking for the first time in a long while.
"You're not going to believe this," he said, finally getting ahold of himself. "But the Dark Lord wants me to join him." He started giggling again. The thought of it was just too funny. There was something that just tickled his funny bone. It greatly amused him, because he could see it working.
"Ohh?" she said inquiringly.
"Yeah, he thinks it's a great idea that I joined his side instead of going after him," the teen said, still chuckling while talking.
Many around him were looking at him with wide eyes and gasping with shock. Whispers were breaking out and the rumors were starting already. He could already hear them validifying him. He didn't care. They could call him whatever they wanted. He'd take them all on. They were nothing but cowards, the lot of them. They all wanted to hang their hopes on a teenage boy. They had been fighting a war for two years now and they had been losing.
"And you find this funny because?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow.
"Well, I don't see why I shouldn't," he said, lifting his own eyebrow.
She contemplated that for a minute. She looked around her at the many students that had done her wrong and treated her poorly since she got here. She nodded her head in agreement and went back to her book.
He looked at her and started laughing again. He read the letter and started laughing even harder. He folded the letter and tucked it into his pocket and started eating his breakfast again. Everybody around him looked at him as if he was crazy.
"You're not really thinking of joining the Dark Lord, are you?" asked Neville with a great deal of shock. It was something he didn't even contemplate.
"I don't see any reason why not," said Harry, shrugging his shoulder in an easy manner as if it were no big deal.
"I mean, he's the Dark Lord," said Neville, like that explained it all. When he saw that didn't get his point across. "He's evil," he iterated.
"Is he really now?" asked Harry, turning to face the round-faced boy. "I mean, I've not really seen him doing any evil. I've not seen anybody dying. What has he done that is so evil?" the boy asked. He had read the papers and back issues of said papers and there wasn't a body count, per se. There were some casualties. But it was minimal.
"Well, I mean, he's a dark Lord," Neville reiterated, like repeating it would make a difference.
"Yes, but, is anybody really dying?" asked Harry once again. It was a valid point.
"Well, no," said Neville, looking away, not liking where this was going. A Dark Lord was evil even if there was killing or not.
"Then why do you consider him a Dark Lord?" inquired Harry, tilting his head to one side. Really wondering what made one a Dark Lord.
"Because he calls himself one," said Neville, though there were other reasons. Like the use of the Unforgivables. He just wasn't going to justify them to Harry. That was personal to him, and the boy was a prick sometimes.
"And those are your only qualifications?" asked Harry, scoffing at the boy.
"Well, I mean he tortures his minions. He has minions," said Neville, nodding his head decisively. Those were good enough reasons without going into personal specifics.
"So does Dumbledore," said Harry, pointing to the teachers who were all hanging on every word the kids were saying, while looking like they weren't. "Though I don't think the headmaster tortures his," he added.
"I don't think you can really call the followers of Dumbledore minions," said Seamus with a chuckle.
"Sure they are. They just go by a different name," said Harry, chuckling back. He liked the Irish kid. He didn't question Harry's every move like everyone else did, bar Hermione.
"But we are at war," said Neville, still affronted that Harry was considering joining the Dark Lord.
"Are we really though?" asked Harry, facing Neville once again, seeing the boy wasn't going to drop it. "I'm still not seeing anybody dying. I mean, all I'm really seeing is a bunch of conflict. The fights we have are a bunch of throw downs. This is more of a political battle. The one I'm really worried about is when the real Dark Lord shows up." He shuddered thinking about that one. Now that was the one that kept him up at night. According to Anyanka that was the guy that was going to cause some real havoc.
"What are you on about?" asked Seamus.
"You know, the older version that's coming at the end of this year. That's the one I'm nervous about. That's when people will be dying and that's one that I will be paid to be killing. This one… the teenage version. He's a knockoff. I'm not really worried about him. I wouldn't mind joining him. Then we can team up against the older version," Harry said, waving his hand around in a negligent manner. "I mean, one Dark Lord isn't going to want the other one around. I can see the two fighting each other. It makes sense to join the lesser of two evils."
"I still don't know what you're talking about," said Seamus with a confused look on his face.
"Don't you remember what Anyanka said? She said that an older version was coming at the end of this year. And that he was going to be even darker than the one that is here now. That's what I'm worried about," Harry reiterated, looking about and seeing nothing but confused looks. He was now concerned. They didn't remember the warning. He did. Shite. She told him all about it before she left. Didn't she tell them? She said that she had.
"I don't remember her saying that," said Neville, looking at Seamus, who shook his head.
"Well, I do. And I'm telling you that I'm going to be troubled over it. I'm going to be fighting that one. And that's the one you're going to be paying me for. I think I'll write this one back," he stated, picking up his fork and finishing up his now warm eggs.
"You do that," said Neville with a frown. "But I'll tell you right now, I'll never trust you again if you do." He meant it too. He'd never trust anyone who sided with a Dark Lord.
"You don't trust me now," Harry pointed out, shoveling down his breakfast before it got colder.
"Too right, on that," said Neville, shoving his plate away. His appetite was gone. He couldn't believe the boy hero was going to join the Dark Lord. All his dreams were crushed. He would have to take up the cause on his own and see about fighting for the rights of the muggleborn.
"There you are then," said Harry, finishing off his juice and getting up.
"I don't trust you," said Seamus good-naturally. He didn't distrust the boy either. He could care less one way or the other.
"I'm not here for you lot to trust. I'm just here to off the Dark Lords. And I'm telling you, this one here that's written me is not someone I have to be concerned about. You don't trust me on that? That's not my problem. When he starts killing people, then you have to worry. Until then bugger off. I have a letter to write." With that, Harry turned and went to the common room, wrote his letter and threw in his lot with the Dark Lord, Voldemort Junior.