Chapter 2
The Dark Lord’s Castle
8:37 AM
Harry awoke slowly, his mind pleasantly fuzzy from a good night’s rest. It was strange for Harry to sleep well, especially lately, as he’s been so stressed out with school and avoiding Umbridge. Being constantly on edge wondering if your classmates would attack you for the slander the Daily Prophet had been spouting while avoiding a defense teacher bent on torturing you, was exhausting, but whenever Harry laid down to sleep in his dorm room, he was kept up from nightmares. That’s why, when Harry awoke to the birds chirping after a restful night’s sleep, Harry didn’t want to wake up. He sunk into the comfortable sheets and heavy duvet with a groan, wishing he could fall back asleep. Just as he was about to slink off into peaceful oblivion, however, the strange dream he had was called to mind.
He dreamed he went to the Department of Mysteries and fought a battle, losing Sirius to the veil before he jumped in after him, only to wake up in a different dimension where Lord Voldemort was his father! Harry cracked a smile at the ridiculous thought. He slowly opened his eyes and sat up on one elbow, reaching out to tug at Ron’s curtain next to him.
“Hey Ron, I had the craziest dream---” Harry froze when he took in his surroundings, his eyes widening impossibly big as he looked around the lush guest room. He swallowed dryly as his mind came back to him, no longer fuzzy from lethargy. “Oh,” he said softly, his eyes tracing the Slytherin-green curtains. “Not a dream.”
He carefully pulled back the soft comforter and duvet, shivering as his bare feet touched the cold stone floor. So it wasn’t a dream, after all. He really went through the veil and ended up in a completely different dimension where everything was completely different. And Sirius… Harry swallowed at the sudden swell of grief, and he had to blink back tears. His godfather was gone, probably in some other dimension where Harry could never find him again.
Harry was all alone. Again.
Harry walked around the guest room cautiously, forcibly throwing the depressing thoughts out of his mind. There would be time for grief later, but right now Harry needed to be careful and focused. Despite what the Voldemort of this world said, this could all be a trap, and Harry would be stupid to just accept everything he said as the truth.
Just as Harry was working up the courage to open the door and explore, a loud pop startled him enough to make Harry stumble, his hand reflexively flying to his wand. He spun around to see a House Elf staring at him sheepishly. “Little One’s Papa is requesting Little One be eating breakfast,” the House Elf said. “Dottie be taking Little One to the dining room.”
“Okay…” Harry said, tightly gripping his wand. “And my name is Harry. You can just call me Harry. He’s not… I’m not Little One.”
Dottie just looked at Harry with confusion, her hands nervously tugging at her ears. “You and Little One have the same magic,” she said. “Yous being Little One and Little One being you.”
“Um… right…” Harry said, his eyebrows drawn together. He supposed it made sense considering Harry was Little One from another dimension, but he was still a different person. “Okay, but could you please call me Harry?”
Dottie burst into tears at the question, and Harry panicked, his hands flying towards the hysterical House Elf. “Harry be so kind!” she wailed. Harry relaxed, realizing that her reaction was to his manners and not his question. “Dottie be taking Harry to the dining room, now. Kind Master Harry be following Dottie.”
Harry followed Dottie throughout the grand hallways of the castle, and he took the sights in with wide eyes. The castle reminded Harry of Hogwarts only grander, with more lush decorations and windows. The castle itself seemed to be larger than Hogwarts, but it felt different. It felt more lived in.
Dottie took him through the halls and into a grand dining room, a proud arch just below the ceiling instead of doors, and the wall on the right was made entirely of windows, showcasing the beautiful gardens outside. There was a magnificent chandelier that hung from the center of the dome-like ceiling, casting warm light on the mahogany dining table that ran the length of the room. Sitting at the head of the table was Voldemort, to his right was the baby version of Harry---Little One, the inferius---and sitting next to Little One was this world’s Sirius and Professor Lupin.
“Good morning, dearest,” Voldemort said, looking up from his plate of eggs, bacon, and toast to smile at Harry. He lifted his hand to beckon Harry forward. “Come, sit. Breakfast is ready.”
Harry eyed the empty seat by Voldemort’s left, a plate of steaming breakfast, making Harry’s stomach rumble. He took in a deep breath, steeling himself before he walked with purposeful strides to the empty seat. Voldemort looked delighted at Harry’s compliance and he smiled fondly at him when he sat down and began to eat.
The food was delicious, and Harry ate greedily. Even with three full meals a day at Hogwarts, the effects of starvation from the Dursleys didn’t disappear. He ate, making sure to keep one arm wrapped around his plate subtly in case someone attempted to take his food away. Judging from the tense glances the adults shared, he didn’t make it subtle enough.
Across the table from him, Little One smacked his spoon against his oatmeal, silently giggling at the wet noise it made. Harry watched him curiously, taking in the bright smile and open eyes on his younger doppelganger. Is this how Harry would have behaved if he had a good childhood? It was odd to think of Voldemort giving him a happy childhood. Little One suddenly looked up from his oatmeal to meet Harry’s gaze from across the table. Little One smiled at him, lifting his hand to wave at him. Harry smiled at the tot, waving his hand in response to the adorable child.
“Did you sleep well?” Voldemort’s question brought Harry’s attention back to the table. He glanced at Voldemort, taking note of his pleased expression.
“Er, yeah,” Harry said, caught off guard by the Dark Lord’s attention. “The room was nice.”
“I'm glad you slept well,” Voldemort hummed, taking a sip of his tea. “I’m sorry you had to sleep in the guest room. I have my elves making your own bedroom in the family wing. They should be done by noon.”
Harry froze. “Wait, what? Why would they do that?”
Voldemort just smiled at Harry, and Harry bristled at the patronizing glint in the man’s eyes. “Well, you are my son, after all,” he said. “Of course you’ll have your own room.”
“I’m not your son,” Harry said, clenching his hands into fists. “And I’m not staying, remember? You’re going to find a way to get me home. This is all temporary.”
“Of course, precious. However, finding you a way home may take a while, so I thought you might prefer more permanent accommodations,” Voldemort said, betraying no emotions on his face save from the same fond grin he’d been wearing since Harry entered the dining room. “And as you are Little One from another dimension, technically you are my son.”
“I would prefer if you didn’t refer to me as such,” Harry said through grit teeth, the memory of his mother’s murder flashing in his head. “I have a father already, who died to protect me from you. I don’t need a replacement.”
The atmosphere was tense as Harry glared at Voldemort’s unrepentant figure, Sirius and Professor Lupin watching the pair with wide eyes. Finally, Voldemort spoke, “Forgive me, Harry,” he said, placing his teacup down. “I meant no offense. However, I am not the Voldemort you know. I did not kill James and Lily Potter, nor did I attempt to cause you harm.”
“So you can confuse me with your son but I can’t confuse you with my parent’s murderer?” Harry snapped.
“It seems we are at an impasse,” Voldemort replied, leaning forward to wipe Little One’s face, as the toddler had managed to cover his mouth and cheeks with oatmeal. “I consider you my son and you consider me a mad man. I suppose we will have to work to make new perceptions of each other.”
Harry stared at him, mouth agape as the Dark Lord cleaned a child’s messy face. It all seemed so surreal to him. He just insulted the Dark Lord, which in itself wasn’t odd, but the fact that the man hadn’t retaliated with an Unforgivable was. Was he dreaming? Perhaps this was just one big fever dream, and he was actually lying in one of Madam Pomfrey's hospital beds.
“So Harry,” Sirius said, breaking the uncomfortable silence and drawing Harry’s gaze away from the Dark Lord and Inferius. “Tell me about yourself. You mentioned Hogwarts, right? What’s your favorite class? Do you have lots of friends? What about Quidditch?”
Oh, right. This Sirius didn’t know anything about him. Harry nervously rubbed his scar as he spoke, wishing that he would just wake up from this crazy dream. “I guess my favorite class is Defense---even though every single Professor I’ve had tried to kill me---because I’m really good at it. I hate Potions, though. Snape’s a git. Um, I have two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. I’m the seeker for the Gryffindor team, but we haven’t got much practice this year because of Umbridge…”
“Snivellus is a Professor?” Sirius cried, his face screwing up with disgust. “That’s insane! Is he still a grouchy dungeon bat?”
“Yeah, a bit,” Harry said, taking another bite of his toast. “He hates me. He’s always docking Gryffindor points, even when we haven’t done anything. The man would probably dance on my grave.”
“You’re the seeker?” Professor Lupin asked, stepping in before Sirius could insult Snape more. It seemed that Sirius hated Snape’s gut as much as he did in his own world. Somehow, the thought was comforting. “That’s wonderful! Are you any good?”
“I’ve been the seeker since first year,” Harry said sheepishly. “Professor McGonagall says I’m a natural like my dad.”
Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry could see Voldemort stiffen, his crimson eyes going hard for a second before he masked his emotions. Sirius just laughed, seemingly oblivious to the Dark Lord’s mood as he grinned. “Yeah, James was incredible on the broom! And, wow! Seeker since first year! I didn’t even know that was allowed!”
“I was a special case,” Harry shrugged. “Drove Malfoy mad, though. He’s always been a prick, but he seems to get worse each year.”
“Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?” Voldemort asked, looking at him with confusion. “You’re not friends?”
“Friends? Merlin no!” Harry cried. “We hate each other! We’re always fighting. Our rivalry is legendary throughout Hogwarts.”
“Hmm,” Voldemort nodded before he continued. “You mentioned that your Defense teachers try to kill you? Care to expand?”
“Not much to talk about,” Harry shrugged. “They’re either working for you or almost kill me with their incompetence. Professor Lupin doesn’t count, though, his was accidental.”
Professor Lupin spluttered. “What? Me?”
“Yeah, in third year you forgot to take your potion on the full moon,” Harry said, ignoring their shocked faces. “But it wasn’t your fault. Third year was kind of crazy, what with the dementors and everything.”
“Dementors?!” Sirius cried. “What were they doing at Hogwarts?!”
“You escaped from Azkaban in my third year to go after Peter Pettigrew who was pretending to be my friend Ron’s pet rat,” Harry explained, taking a bite of his eggs. “The Minister sent the dementors to guard Hogwarts ‘cause everyone thought you escaped to kill me.”
“That’s… That’s absolutely mental!” Sirius said, his eyes wide. “Your world is insane!”
“Are you sure you want to go back there, Harry?” Voldemort asked. “After all, assassination attempts, war, abuse… None of those things sound very great.”
“Well, I mean it’s a little hectic,” Harry allowed, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “But there’s good things, too! I have my best friends! And… Well…”
Voldemort sighed, his crimson eyes filled with pity as they stared at him. It was so unfamiliar to him, especially because Harry was used to the man staring down at him with murderous rage. Harry wasn’t sure how to proceed with that look, so he chose to clear his throat and return to his breakfast.
“I didn’t mean to make you sad, dearest,” Voldemort said softly, and Harry stiffened. He wasn’t sad! He was frustrated! He didn’t understand what was going on, and everything was so different here! He just wanted to go home! Not like I have much of a home, anyway, Harry thought with a bitter smile. “I apologize for pushing the subject.”
“S’fine,” Harry mumbled, taking a final bite of breakfast before the plate was cleared. He looked at the empty plate for a second before he pushed it away. He was still a little hungry, but he wasn’t going to tell Voldemort that. “I wasn’t sad.”
“Of course, dearest,” Voldemort agreed easily. He stood, then, his movement causing both Sirius and Professor Lupin to tense. “I’m afraid I have a business meeting with my Inner Circle today. Narcissa and Draco are coming over today to watch over Little One---”
“The Malfoys?!” Harry sputtered, his eyes wide as he stared at the Dark Lord in front of him. “You let the Malfoys take care of baby-me?!”
“Of course,” Voldemort said with a raised eyebrow. “Little One adores his Aunty Cissa.”
Harry’s mouth opened and closed, his mind completely blank as he struggled to understand what was being said. “But… Malfoy… Git…”
Voldemort chuckled. “Whatever feud you have with the Malfoys of your world,” he said with a fond grin. “I assure you they are different here. Why, Little One and Draco are friends.”
“This world is so messed up…” Harry muttered to himself, his eyes wide and uncomprehending. “I’m friends with Malfoy. Voldemort’s my dad. What the hell?!”
“Darling, please refrain from such language,” Voldemort said with a cringe. (Well, as much as a dignified Dark Lord could cringe.) “It’s unbecoming of someone your stature.”
“What are you talking about, my stature?”
Voldemort opened his mouth to respond but suddenly thought better of it. “It’s nothing, love, finish your breakfast.”
Harry eyed him suspiciously for a moment before he went back to his breakfast. He suspected the Dark Lord wanted to tell him that Harry was his son again, resulting in some sort of ‘royal treatment’ from everyone else. Harry was glad Voldemort caught himself before he said it.
The rest of the breakfast was eaten in comfortable silence, no noise save for the clinking of utensils against dishes. Harry was reluctant to admit that the food was incredible---better than Hogwarts. He watched the way Voldemort and Little One behaved as he ate, taking in their strange interactions.
Little One, to put it mildly, adored Voldemort. Harry could see the love and affection his other self held for the Dark Lord, which wasn’t that strange considering this Voldemort had raised him for a very long time. What was strange, however, was the equal, perhaps more so, affection that Voldemort held for Little One.
The familiar love and paternal affection Voldemort bestowed upon Little One was overwhelming, and whenever the dark Lord bent down to wipe Little One’s face or kiss his head, Harry had to look away. He wasn’t built to handle that much affection, wasn’t sure how to deal with it.
It was easier, Harry concluded, to pretend it didn’t exist.
When breakfast was over and the House Elves had come and cleared everything away, Voldemort rose from his chair, carefully lifting Little One into his arms, where the toddler nuzzled into his neck and addressed Harry.
“I’ll be leaving for my meeting in a moment,” he said, his voice regal. “I’ll have to explain what’s happened to my followers so they know who you are---”
“Wait, what?!” Harry cried, panicked once again. “You can’t! They’ll kill me! No one can know I’m here!”
Voldemort’s crimson eyes softened. “They won’t hurt you, dearest,” he said, moving his hand towards Harry’s face, probably to ruffle his hair or something, but the movement made Harry flinch, so Voldemort lowered it. “They won’t hurt you,” he repeated. “They adore Little One and I’m sure they’ll adore you.”
Harry wanted to scream. Everything was wrong and different and he was seriously freaking out! Voldemort loved him, those crazy Death Eaters were his babysitters, and apparently, Draco I-am-a-ponce Malfoy was his friend!
“I want to go home,” Harry whispered pitifully, fighting the urge to cry. He wasn’t sure why he felt so sad all of the sudden, but all of the drastic differences of this world were suddenly overwhelming.
Suddenly, Harry was wrapped up in a warm hug. The sudden physical affection made Harry flinch before he sunk into it, his eyes watering at the feeling. When was the last time he had a hug? Harry couldn’t remember at all. He sniffled, and he could feel Voldemort’s hand gently card through his black curls, and the feeling made Harry, ironically, feel safe.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Voldemort whispered, tightly hugging Harry to his chest. “It will be alright. Everything will be fine, dearest, I promise. I’m here now.”
As Harry melted into the hug of the Dark Lord, a toddler inferius reaching across the man’s chest from his position in his arms to lightly pat Harry’s cheek, Harry missed the dark, possessive look that flitted over Voldemort’s face as he stared down at Harry.
“Now then,” Voldemort said, gesturing for his followers to rise. “I’m sure you’re all wondering why I called you here on such short notice. I am in need of some assistance.”
“We live to serve you, My Lord,” Bellatrix said, her eyes shining with crazed devotion.
“Yesterday morning an intruder arrived on my grounds,” Voldemort said, ignoring the way his Inner Circle tensed, Bellatrix suddenly cackling with glee. “This intruder, much to my surprise, turned out to be Little One from another world.”
Everyone in the room froze, their eyes widening as they stared at Voldemort with disbelief. “L-Little One, My Lord?” Lucius dared to ask.
“Quite,” Voldemort said with a curt nod. “It appears in his world, he is fighting a war with the Dark Lord. He was lured into a trap and fell through a rift in space, resulting in him ending up here.”
“Little One’s grown?” Bellatrix asked with awe. “Ickle baby is all grown up?!”
“Little One is fifteen,” Voldemort said, ignoring the happy gasps coming from his followers. “However, we are in a dilemma. In his world, Voldemort has been trying to kill him since he was a baby---” The hissed gasps interrupted him, but Voldemort paid no mind. “---as well as the members of his Inner Circle. He is understandably… wary.”
“What is the task you seek of us, My Lord?” Rabastian asked, looking eager.
“Little One wants to go back to that world, I promised him I would try,” Voldemort said. “I want you all to look for it while I convince him he should stay. Please, take your time. It may be a while before I can convince him he’ll be happy here.”
“Is there any other information you can give us, My Lord?” Severus asked.
“He said he came here through the veil at the Department of Mysteries,” Voldemort said. Severus nodded. “One more thing before I dismiss you,” Voldemort added. “The Voldemort of his world never adopted him, and because he never died, he still goes by his birth name.”
Voldemort could see his Inner Circle shift with anticipation. Little One’s birth name was something he kept close to his chest, and it was something that all of them wanted to know. As reluctant as he was to share something personal about his son with his Inner Circle, Harry would only respond to his given name.
“Should you see a teenager walking around that looks like Little One,” Voldemort continued. “He will only answer to the name Harry Potter.”
Voldemort watched as his Inner Circle comprehended those words, their eyes widening. Voldemort knew Severus held some kind of affection for the late Lily Potter, so watching the man crumble under the knowledge that his lost love’s child had been murdered was truly a sight.
Voldemort sighed, moving his hand to dismiss his Death Eaters when a House Elf popped into the room, frantic. “Master!” she cried. “Somethings being wrong with Harry!”
Voldemort was moving before the elf could finish her sentence. She said something was wrong with his son, the son he had only just received, and he knew he needed to help. Voldemort speed-walked out of his meeting Hall towards the common room where he knew Little One, Harry, Draco and Narcissa would be, not caring that his Inner Circle was following him.
The scene he was greeted with when he entered would haunt his nightmares.
Harry was arched on the floor, writhing in complete agony as he clawed at his face, blood dripping down his forehead coming from his angry, red scar. He was screaming with pain, and he could see Narcissa struggling to help him, Draco and Little One curled up on the floor crying with fear.
“Harry!” Voldemort cried, racing to his son. “Harry, what’s happening? Harry?”
“AGHHH!” Harry screamed. “Vision…. Voldemort… Hurts!”
Voldemort, completely unrepentant, forced Harry’s eyes open and dove into his mind. He needed to know what was wrong with his child, and Harry was in no state to tell him.
“Find the Potter boy!” a voice hissed. Voldemort turned to see a hideous, reptilian man giving orders to a group of Death eaters. No. This couldn’t be…
“We will find him, My Lord,” a woman dressed in tattered robes cried. Bellatrix?
The reptilian man screeched and threw a Cruciatius at her, and Voldemort watched with disgust as Bellatrix writhed in agony and pleasure. “FIND HIM!” the distorted Voldemort demanded. “FIND HIM AND BRING HIM TO ME SO I CAN KILL HIM!”
Voldemort ripped himself out of Harry’s head with a gasp, watching with relief as Harry finally collapsed to the floor with a pitiful sob. “It’s all right, love,” Voldemort whispered gently, pulling Harry’s body so that he could rest in his lap. “There’s a good boy, it’s all right. I’m here now, you’re safe.”
He continued to comfort him until Harry fell into a fretful sleep. With Harry dozing on his lap, Voldemort looked up at his followers, all of them staring in raging degrees of disbelief at the teen. Voldemort grit his teeth, rage flashing through his body, white and hot.
“I’ve changed my mind,” he hissed, drawing their attention back to him. “Find a way back to Harry’s world as soon as possible.”
“My Lord?”
“It seems I have a Dark Lord to kill,” Voldemort said, his eyes flashing red.