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World in Pieces	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 16431 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
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Chapter Four--Loud as Thunder

            "This should suit you admirably."

            Harry controlled the impulse to duck when he saw Snape coming at him with a knife. He was just holding it, not acting as if he would stab Harry or cut bits of him off for Potions ingredients. And it was a nice knife, Harry had to admit, with a solid black hilt and a long iron blade. He didn't know if it was exactly the kind of knife that Evelina had told him to get for killing practice, but it didn't look as if it had been made for dicing flobberworms and nothing else.

            "Er," he said, and took the knife from Snape, wincing as it dragged at his wrist. It was much heavier than it had looked. "Thank you, sir."

            "You're welcome." Snape stepped back from him, his eyes opaque as he watched Harry. Harry wondered if he was reconsidering his offer of alliance. Harry could see why he might want to. Snape, even this Snape, wasn't someone who gave things away for free, and Harry didn't have much to offer him in return. Ridding the world of Voldemort was something he might or might not be able to do. Snape didn't seem like a person to bet on anything but a sure thing, especially since the other versions of Harry had failed.

            But Harry could do nothing except watch for betrayal and act on it if he saw it. He just needed the help, and especially the history of the world that Snape had promised him, too much.

            He tucked the knife awkwardly down at his side--the wand felt a lot more natural, and couldn't cut him, besides--and nodded at Snape. "What are the most important things I need to know?"

            "The way you acted in Slytherin," Snape said softly. "You managed to make friends in other Houses. Unusual for a Slytherin, but on the other hand, you had fame and the hope of victory on your side."

            "Could you stop calling me by his name?" Harry demanded. "Call him the other Harry, or call him Harry and me Potter."

            "I did not call you by his name." Snape's eyes were more opaque than ever now. If he leaned close enough, Harry thought, he might see his own reflection in them, as if they were made of ice.

            "You acted as though I was the one who was here and fighting Voldemort at the time," Harry said. "At least use the word he."

            For a moment, the silence between them paused and lengthened, and Harry was sure that Snape would refuse, simply to test him further. But Snape nodded at last and said, "Yes, I can see your reasons for requesting such a thing."

            "Are you going to do it?" Harry demanded.

            "Such a small thing? Of course." Snape shrugged and continued before Harry could ask whether he was being sarcastic or not. Perhaps he thought Harry should be able to tell he was being sarcastic. "He made friends in Gryffindor who wanted to follow his fame or thought the significance of the war enough to overcome their prejudices against Slytherins. He made friends among the Ravenclaws because he did have academic interests in certain subjects. His Hufflepuff friends followed him because he was kind to them."

            "What about his own House?" Harry asked. "I mean, I know Draco was his--boyfriend." That was still weird to think about. "But how many of them really were his friends, and how many followed him because it was convenient, and how many of them were his enemies?"

            "I cannot answer that question," Snape said. "Or I would have sought among them first for answers to his death. But Draco knew nothing, and many of the rest of his yearmates remained on friendly but wary terms with him. Terms of mutual benefit, much like the ones we have forged."

            Harry nodded. He reckoned he shouldn't have expected more of Snape than that. "You couldn't investigate them closely because you were their teacher?"

            "Among other reasons," Snape said. "You should know also that we have fought several inconclusive battles with the Dark Lord."

            Harry took a long, slow breath. It was strange to think about that, because the Voldemort in his world had favored attacks on Muggles and taking over institutions and casting Imperius on people, and there'd been few big attacks until the final battle at Hogwarts. Well, after all the differences that he'd had to get used to, this one shouldn't be that hard. "What was the most recent one?"

            "He flung several Death Eaters disguised as children at the wards," Snape said calmly. "He thought that we would think of them as Hogwarts students in danger, and come to investigate. He did not count enough on the professors' familiarity with those they have taught. We know students not only by their performance in the classroom, but by facial expression and magical signature. We did not open the wards. One of the Death Eaters damaged them enough to wear a hole through--that was Lalla Parkinson, Pansy Parkinson's aunt--but we killed her."

            Harry licked his lips. He would have to get used to fighting people who looked like children, then. This Voldemort was more cruel than the one in his world as well as smarter and less insane. On the other hand, maybe that Voldemort had relied more on turning children already in Hogwarts into Death Eaters.

            "Who killed her?" he asked. If it was one of the Harrys, then he would have to pretend to know about it.

            "I did."

            Harry blinked. That hadn't been at all apparent when Snape was talking about it, but then again--

            Then again, Harry thought, his anger at being kidnapped stirring to life again, that could be a good thing. If he had someone at his back who was dark and ruthless and didn't much care what he had to do to the enemy, that meant Snape could train him better. And it was better than the rest of the Order of the Phoenix, who didn't much care what they had to do to him.

            That's another reason I want to succeed here. So they can stop dragging different versions of me out of their own universes, where they should have been happy.

            "Okay," he said. "What about the battle before that?"

*

            Can he bear the details?

            But even as he asked the question of himself, Severus knew the answer. He had wondered if hearing details about the battles was one reason the Harry he knew had committed suicide, spilled his blood in echo of the spilled blood he had heard about. The other two had learned less than they should have, and been unprepared for some of the Dark Lord's tricks when they went up against him.

            This one would learn, and listen, and demand more. Severus consciously expanded his mental web in a new direction--he did not know whether the boy's willingness to listen came from his desire to survive, his longing to protect others, or a taste for strategy, and he would need to--and continued answering Harry's questions.

            "The battle before that, he confronted us on open ground," he said, "and cast a wide-ranging Cruciatus."

            Harry frowned. "He cast it on more than one person at once?"

            Severus nodded. "In a manner of speaking. When he cast it on Professor McGonagall, others around her began to suffer the same bursts of pain and convulsions that came in time with hers. Then on Lucius Malfoy, and the same thing happened. And then again on Ron Weasley." He saw a shadow drift across Harry's face, and suspected that it had to do with Weasley fighting and suffering that. But he had not suffered anything that he had not survived, so Severus continued speaking. "We found out that he was using the wand cores. There are undoubtedly advantages for Ollivander in using only three elements for cores, but the Dark Lord has learned the power of sympathetic magic. The unicorn hair in one wand can be made to resonate with the unicorn hairs in others, and likewise with phoenix feathers and dragon heartstring." Severus felt himself smile, though he doubted that many people would have recognized the expression. He wondered if Harry did. He didn't try to flee, at least, so that might be a good sign. "As most of the adult and adolescent wizards in Britain have wands made by Ollivander, there were few of them left out of his spell."

            "But you were."

            Perhaps I shall have to give more credit to his observational ability than I have so far. Severus studied the boy, holding a neutral expression in place like a mask. "What makes you say so?"

            "Because you don't sound as though you include yourself in the group of victims." Harry hunched forwards on the couch. Among the other lessons must come ones in posture. "And you look--contemptuous when talking about their wands. You wouldn't sound that way if you were caught up in the trick. You would be more impressed with him for thinking of it."

            Perhaps not observational ability in general, but I must not forget that this boy knew someone like me, and has a commitment to understanding everything that relates to the war. "You are correct. I escaped, and I was the one to learn the counter to the spell and release most of them from it. I could not release the three primaries used as triggers for the others, but Albus managed that much."

            Harry sneered. Judging from the tone of his voice, he wasn't aware of the gesture. "What did you do?"

            "I had altered the dragon heartstring in my wand long ago, strengthening it so that it might stand a chance of holding my wand halves together if they cracked." Severus held his wand out towards the boy, making sure that the deadly end pointed towards himself. "You may touch it," he added, when Harry hesitated. It was perhaps caution rather than instinctive good manners, but Severus appreciated it nonetheless. He had had so little to appreciate lately.

            Harry let his hand rest on the wand and snatched it back almost at once, frowning. "It feels weird."

            Severus paused, and then converted the pause into a smooth pulling back of the wand to rest against his side. "That is the first time that anyone has said so," he murmured in a calm voice that was meant to encourage the boy, instead of sending him scurrying back behind his barriers the way disapproval would make him do. "What do you mean?"

            "It felt like there was energy that shouldn't be there," the boy said, and tried to scrub his hand on his jumper without Severus noticing. He noticed him noticing, of course, and lifted his chin defiantly. Focused observational ability for me only. This may make it harder to convince him that I am not my counterpart. "It was like I was touching a live wire." He paused, studying Severus.

            Severus nodded. "I know what you refer to."

            Reassured, the boy continued. "And--I've never felt energy like that when I was touching someone else's wand. I don't think it's supposed to be there."

            "Hmm," Severus said, and wondered whether he should voice his conclusions. He decided in the end that he would. Silence had only encouraged Harry in his distrustful behavior. "I have heard of such things from those who have split their loyalty between two different wands, when their original wands were restored to them after an accident or after they were lost for a time."

            There was no reason for those words to make Harry's face drain of color, but they did. He swallowed and shook his head. "I--did that," he said. "I was using Draco Malfoy's wand, his wand in my world, to battle Voldemort for a while, because my holly wand was snapped." He let his hand rest defensively on the holly wand as he spoke.

            Severus noted the way his eyes darted to the right and his skin flushed lightly near the base of the neck. A lie.

            But pressing now would gain him less than nothing, so he kept his voice to a conversational mildness as he said, "Indeed. Well, we cannot count on that to keep you safe from the Dark Lord if he tries the wand trick a second time. What is your core?"

            "Phoenix feather," Harry said. "I wonder--I don't know, will it be useless against him? Mine was in my world because his wand had a phoenix feather core from the same bird. And they locked against each other."

            "Priori Incantatem," Severus finished with the loudest hiss he would permit himself at the moment. "I do not know. The Harry from this world never entered direct wand-to-wand battle against him. It did not happen with the others, but that could be due to a difference in wands, in worlds, or in cores."

            "Or in something else," Harry finished, looking both gloomy and unsurprised. "Maybe he killed them in indirect ways."

            Severus nodded. He had seen the body of the Harry who was tortured to death. That was not something he would tell this Harry, not because he didn't need to know it for the war, but because no one needed to know it. "Exactly. That is why it is important that you absorb this information and use it to survive."

            "And protect." Harry stiffened and shot him a haughty look, as if he thought Severus had changed his allegiance sometime in the last five minutes. "I know that, you don't need to rub it in."

            "I did not seek to rub it in, as you said," Severus said. "If I had, you would know it."

            It took long minutes, but Harry relaxed enough to give him a cautious smile, at last. Severus inclined his head back and turned to attend to the teacups they had left sitting out, giving Harry a minute to realize that not everyone who spoke to him was his enemy.

            Though he will have few enough who are not, in this world. Even Black did not do all he could have to save the others when he realized that they were not the boy who left.

            "You haven't finished telling me everything yet."

            Harry's voice was strong again. Severus checked that all traces of tea had vanished from the mantle, and then nodded and turned around again. "I cannot tell you everything even if I wished to. I was not there for some of it, and I would not trust the words of those who are as biased as the Order sometimes are. But this is what I know..."

*

            Harry leaned on the stone wall outside Snape's quarters and sighed. What Snape had told him was a lot to take in. And every detail he revealed made Voldemort seem more powerful and cleverer than he already was.

            Harry had almost opened his mouth several times during the conversation and said that he was rejecting Snape's offer to train him, that he was going to reject everything but a spell that would take him home. If anyone could make such a spell work on his own, and do the necessary research without help, it was Snape. He might even be able to trick Hermione into helping.

            But then Snape would say something about the other Hogwarts students, or the people in Diagon Alley who had been surprised and horrified by the sudden appearance of the Death Eaters in the middle of them who had started using spells that turned people to stone. And Harry shut his mouth each time.

            He wasn't doing this for the Order. He was doing it for himself, and for the people whose lives would suck if Voldemort won. Dumbledore would use those innocent victims against him if he wasn't careful, Harry knew that. But it didn't change the fact that they existed, and in all their humbleness and ignorance, needed someone to depend on for protection.

            Because the Order sure as fuck wasn't going to provide it.

            "Harry!"

            Harry looked up, blinking. Ron and Hermione had run around the corner, and now halted not far from him, standing cautiously together as if they assumed that he would strike out at unfamiliar noises and sounds. Well, Harry had probably given them that impression so far, so it was fair.

            And just when Harry might have smiled at them and welcomed them simply because they looked so much like the friends he missed, Snape's words rang in his head. They will use you if they can. To them, you are a tool. They learned to see every other Potter who came to this world that way, because they would not be able to live with themselves otherwise. To them, the only real Harry is the first one who died.

            So Harry contented himself with a cool little nod and a faint smile. "You lot," he said. "What's going on?"

            "We wanted to speak to you alone." Hermione stepped closer to him, her eyes darting around in that familiar motion Harry knew so well, to check for eavesdroppers. For a moment, he was glad she had that scar on her cheek, so he wouldn't be tempted to fall at her feet and ask for help.

            "That sounds sufficiently ominous."

            Ron scowled at him, but it was a moderate scowl. This Ron had better control over his temper than the one he knew, Harry thought. "We don't mean to hurt you."

            "Stuffing me in a cell and yanking me away from my world doesn't count?" Harry knew his voice was rising, and he couldn't help it. In fact, that was a good thing. Blow off some of the anger, as Snape would say, release it where it couldn't cause any damage. Ron and Hermione might be part of the Order and helping to research the spell that would send him home, but Harry doubted that they would play a huge part in that. And they were his age. They weren't as full of the subtlety and cleverness and strange differences that Sirius and Dumbledore and even Snape seemed to be. They couldn't be.

            "You know why we did that." Hermione's eyes were steady and grim. Behind her, Ron cast spells that ought to silence their conversation from anyone else who wanted to listen in. "But now that you've agreed to help us, it's a different story."

            "Did the other people you killed not agree to help you fast enough?" Harry folded his arms. "Or did they just never insist on returning to their worlds, so you didn't feel obligated to help them?"

            "It's not like that," Hermione said, and pushed her hair out of her eyes with a gesture that Harry didn't remember. That probably meant it was native to her in this world instead of his. "Harry, it's like--it's as if you knew that the only way you could escape a hostile room was to shoot someone dead. You don't want to do it, because that person has never done anything to you personally, but they've been left as a guard by your enemies, and that means they'll try to prevent you from escaping."

            "Nice analogy," Harry said. "Except for one thing. None of us had done anything to you. You just snatched us from other universes and insisted that we serve you."

            "None of the others protested this much," Ron murmured. Harry couldn't be sure whether he'd meant for Harry to hear, but on the other hand, he didn't much care if Ron had or not; he responded anyway.

            "Of course not. Why would they? Their worlds were more similar to yours, and they probably didn't ask as many questions. And they didn't have people acting like their being in a different House was wrong, because they were in the same House as the Harry you knew."

            "We're interested in what caused the universes to diverge," Hermione said, apparently deciding that she should play peacemaker. "That doesn't mean that we feel that you're a lesser champion."

            "Then why the looks of contempt and doubt?" Harry countered. "If anyone has the right to doubt someone around here, it's me. I never asked for this. But you became part of the Order and entered the war of your own free will."

            "It was about free will for us," Hermione said, and there was a confident shine to her eyes that Harry knew meant he'd stumbled across an argument that she already had a counterargument for. "But for you, it was always about fate and destiny. You were brought into this by the prophecy, and that's the case with all the other universes that we looked at, including the ones where you lost or did something even worse."

            "Like died, you mean," Harry drawled. He wondered if he should conceal his fury that they thought death was something horrible the other Harrys had done, instead of suffered, and then decided, why the hell should he?

            Hermione took a cautious step back from him. "I mean...in some of them you joined Voldemort," she said. "The man who killed your parents. We could never tell what you were thinking."

            Harry smiled grimly at her. "Maybe they had friends like the ones that you're proving yourself to me."

            "That's unfair," Ron said in a shocked and grieved tone, as though the original Harry had never done anything like that to them. "We're only trying to save your life, and with you, send you home."

            Harry shook his head. He could already taste ashes in his mouth, and he'd barely spoken with them five minutes. "Do you know how stupid and ridiculous all this sounds to me?" he asked. "You've proved that other universes than the one I know exist, but you sound as though you think yours is the only real one. You're so special and wonderful that you can kidnap other worlds' champions and sacrifice them without thinking about it. And you get all indignant when someone questions your right to do that. You remind me of my cousin Dudley."

            "Who?"

            The look on Ron's face made Harry pull up sharply. These friends of "his" didn't know who the Dursleys were, he reminded himself, but they might search through the available clues and come up with something not so far from the truth if he told them too much. He snorted. "Muggle I met a few times. He mostly impressed me with his selfishness and his conviction that the sun orbited his head."

            "We're not like that," Ron protested. Predictably. Harry was beginning to wonder how his other self had put up with these idiots. Maybe they'd been different around him. The only real alternative was to think that the other Harry was an idiot.

            "But you act like that," Harry said. "If you talk like you're stupid and act like you're stupid and make claims that are stupid, then I'm going to treat you as if you're stupid, even though you might not really be. All I have is what you show me."

            Ron started to say something, but Hermione put up a hand and laid it on his arm. Her eyes were wise and steady as she looked at Harry.

            "Maybe he's right, Ron," she said. "He doesn't have any reason to trust us, and he has no one to cling to here, like the others clung to Snape and Draco."

            If you only knew, Harry thought, while he worked to put a revolted expression on his face, the way they would expect a true Gryffindor to react to mentions of Snape and Malfoy. "Ugh. Really?"

            "Of course. They were familiar with them from their own worlds." Hermione looked him over slowly, in a sideways manner, starting with his shoes and then working up and across his shirt and arms to his face. "So we need to find someone you're comfortable with and would know from your world, someone you can trust."

            Harry rolled his eyes. "Good luck, since you two aren't actually fitting the role."

            "What was it like, for you to be in Gryffindor?" Ron's face was wistful. "I sometimes wished our Harry was, but then that seemed disloyal, because he was perfect just the way he was."

            Harry fought back a shudder. That's another reason to avoid an early death. They'll martyr you if they can, and you'll be a bother to anyone sensible who comes after you.

            "We were best friends," he said. "But we fought a lot, too."

            Ron snorted. "It was hard to fight with Harry. He'd give you this pleading look, or this sly look, or this joke, and he'd make you laugh. And then the fight was forgotten as though it had never happened."

            "Right, right," Harry said. "I think I'm starting to understand how Snape felt in my world, hearing all about the wonders of Saint Potter." Anything he could say to throw them off the suspicion that he was working with Snape should be said, he decided. It was a little sad that he had to plot against people who looked so much like his best friends, but then, they weren't, just like he wasn't theirs. "If he had so much to praise, why did he kill himself, then?"

            Ron started to take a step forwards, fists clenched, but Hermione leaned back against him as though he was a wall and stopped him. "Because he feared," she said coolly. "It was understandable, when he had to face an enemy so strong."

            "And yet, it isn't logical for the ones you kidnap to be afraid?" Harry shook his head. "I don't understand you. Or rather, I do, but it's just like I said. You have that impression that the universes revolve around you going on."

            "Fear all you like." Hermione seemed as if she would be immovable now, standing in front of him with no expression and her arms folded. "Just fight for us."

            "I already said that I would," Harry muttered. He looked up and down the corridor, hoping someone would come along to interrupt, but no one appeared. He wondered how many people were actually in Hogwarts at the moment. If it was only the Order, he was amazed that he had seen as many of them as he had. "As long as you work on the ritual, or spell, or potion, that's going to send me home."

            "You don't even know which one it should be," Hermione said in contempt. "And yet you're sure that it exists?"

            "I'm sure that you should make every effort to make it exist," Harry said. "What happened to your face?"

            Hermione blinked. Harry was glad to see a small crack in the facade of her immobility. "I don't know what you mean," she said. "I'm sure that I look the same as my counterpart in your world."

            "That enormous, disfiguring scar," Harry said helpfully. He knew he should probably be more polite to someone who was going to help send him home, but with all her lectures and her holier-than-thou responses, he didn't know how much she would help. "My Hermione didn't have that."

            She just had courage, and intelligence, and all the other things you need to fight a war. Harry swallowed. I wish she was here. She would organize the shit out of this war effort and show that there's no reason for people to despair of getting us back to our own world.

            "It was Nagini," Ron cut in, before Hermione could say anything. Then again, given the way she'd turned away and bowed her head, Harry reckoned that she wouldn't have. "She bit Hermione. And Hermione was responsible for the spell that killed her. You could be a little more respectful."

            Harry shrugged. "In my world, Neville cut Nagini's head off with the Sword of Gryffindor. I'm a little surprised that it didn't happen here."

            "Neville?" Ron gaped at him. "Neville Longbottom?"

            Harry nodded, enjoying Ron's surprise. Maybe he should find Neville and ask him if he wanted to be allies against all the people who didn't know how strong they could be. "I think he probably only did it because he was the leader of the resistance here at Hogwarts during our seventh year, when the war really hit," he said. "But he got braver and stronger, and he was the one who did that. He pulled the Sword out of the Sorting Hat, the same way that I did in second year, because he's a true Gryffindor."

            "You didn't pull the Sword out of the Sorting Hat!" Hermione objected, whipping around. Apparently she couldn't resist the lure of a factual mistake, Harry thought dryly, or what she thought was one. "You used a spell that turned the basilisk fang into a sword, and killed the basilisk that way."

            Harry blinked, then shrugged. "You mean, the Harry you know did that," he said. "Not me. Since it's so important that we be separated."

            Hermione looked at him, unimpressed. "You should know the things you did in the past if you want to fool people who'll think of you as the original Harry," she said.

            "I can find someone else to explain them to me, thanks all the same," Harry said, thinking of Snape. They hadn't discussed the ways that the other Harry had saved Hogwarts in the past, because the immediate details of the war and Voldemort's actions were more important, but he thought the man wouldn't mind explaining them to him.

            For whatever weird reason.

            "What are you lot doing here?"

            Harry turned his head sharply. Someone had managed to sneak up on him without his noticing. He didn't like that. He hoped that it wouldn't become a habit not to notice.

            Malfoy stood a few steps away, frowning at them. He looked stronger than he had when Harry had first seen him through the bars of the cell, though that might have been because he'd had some time to get used to the appearance of another Harry. He held his wand nervously between both hands, and after a single glance at Harry, he turned his head away and stepped menacingly towards Ron and Hermione.

            "What are you doing to him?" he demanded. "We're all supposed to meet up in the Sunshine Room for a strategy discussion."



            "Dumbledore didn't tell us that," Hermione retorted. Any trace of vulnerability was hidden away again. Harry reckoned she might make a pretty good warrior, at that. He just wished it was a good warrior who hadn't snatched him away from his fucking universe. "And he would have told us before he told you."

            "Unless I was the one he saw first." Malfoy gave her a smile that Harry recognized. The one in his world did it all the time, too, in a way that seemed to squirm under Harry's best defenses and aim straight for his heart. He managed to keep his teeth from grinding, but it was an effort. "You know that our esteemed leader is more for the practicalities than the morals." His eyes darted sideways to Harry for the briefest instant, and Harry decided that his own paranoia since he got here could be a good thing. It meant that he noticed things like Malfoy wanting him to notice that particular statement.

            Hermione was too involved in her own passionate argument to notice anything else at the moment, Harry thought. She bent forwards as if into a wind to hiss at Malfoy, although she also left a good six feet of space between them. "Harry would be ashamed of you."

            Malfoy went pale, but said, with an elaborate shrug, "Which one? The one we all mourn? The other two we stole? The one standing here, who's our current champion and our only real hope of getting out of this mess?" He gestured grandly at Harry.

            All right, I get it, Harry thought. You want an alliance with me. He wasn't entirely sure that Malfoy would want him to go back to his own universe, though, which meant the alliance was an uneasy one at best.

            So what do you want in return for helping me out a little?

            Hermione started to speak again, but Ron touched her on the shoulder and whispered something into her ear. Her lips tightened, she nodded, and she stomped past them, on her way to the Sunshine Room, wherever that was. Ron followed, though with a lingering, graver glance at Malfoy and Harry that made Harry think he suspected something.

            Well, he's just fitting in with the rest of us, then.

            Malfoy leaned on the wall until Ron and Hermione disappeared around the corner. Harry glanced sideways. "Did you make up the meeting?" he asked.

            Malfoy's face flashed with a sudden grin. "No, but that would have been brilliant, wouldn't it?" he asked wistfully. He sighed, then said, "I want your help investigating Harry's murder. I really think he was killed, he didn't commit suicide, and that there's a traitor in the Order."

            "Oh," Harry said, faintly, a minute later, when he thought he could pick up the scrambled pieces of his brain. "So you're not always subtle."

            "I can't be." Malfoy's eyes were fervent with brightness that reminded Harry of the way the eyes of the dragon in Gringotts had looked. "The more time passes since he died, the worse it gets. And the less likely we are to find any clues. I think we need--I need--I need your help, Potter." He glanced down at the floor and swallowed.

            "And what do I get in return?" Harry asked.

            "A second, private research effort," Malfoy said. "There are some old books my mother owned, and that I have now. You could look into them and learn more about ways to return to your universe. It'd be something you could control."

            Harry hesitated a second. He really didn't think that he should trust anyone here other than Snape--

            And that's a sentence you never thought you would speak, isn't it?

            But on the other hand, this didn't sound like anything that would interfere with Snape's training. And he could use Snape and Malfoy as a check on each other. If one of them told him something about the past, he could bring it up in conversation and see if the other one agreed with it.

            Harry grimaced as he thought about that. I hate acting so much like a Slytherin.

            But since he was in a world where he had been, or someone like him had been, and Voldemort was sane, he knew that he'd probably have to if he was going to survive. He'd watch for something better to come along, though. He might have to act a little like he was a Slytherin, but on the other hand, that was how his enemies here expected him to act. His House affiliation with Gryffindor had disturbed and confused them, so he should use it as a weapon.

            And that's more of me doing the same thing.

            "I agree," he said. "Come on, so we're not late, and you tell me why you think it was a murder."

            Malfoy's hungry smile was a little less disturbing than the way his eyes had shone the minute before. "I promise you won't regret it," he said.

            Then his eyes got disturbing again, and Harry did have to look away.

*

            Severus stood in the door of the version of the Room of Requirement that Albus had insisted on naming the Sunshine Room, and let those who wanted to think him a creature of darkness intimidated by the light in front of him be damned. He wanted to see where others sat, how they stood and how they gestured, before he stepped into a landscape sure to be volatile.

            The room was filled with skylights that let in enchanted light appearing from above, mirrors that bounced and amplified the light, magical lamps that mimicked sunshine, the soft glow of torches enchanted to resemble stars, and the mosaic of a waxing and waning moon. Severus usually chose a corner where the shade of the enormous mirrors would somewhat protect his eyes. Albus had tried to design a room where there would be no shadows left, but as usual, he had failed.

            As he did with banishing them from our world.

            The eight chairs arrayed in a half-circle before the ninth made it clear what Albus thought the relative status of the meeting's participants should be. The Weasley boy and the Granger girl had already chosen their usual places, at either end of the row, as if to keep watch on those in between. Black was talking earnestly with Albus in front of the row, gesturing up and down with his hands. Severus snorted. That would be the outline of another extravagant plan to prank the Dark Lord.

            Black does not understand that the war has grown far beyond the precious Marauders' tricks that he once thought so valuable.

            Lucius stood behind the row, a small smile on his face, speaking with Minerva. Well, speaking at her, in reality. She grunted to him on occasion, but she watched the door more often, and Severus could read the truth in the faint pinch of her mouth. She had considered herself responsible for Harry in the past in the same way that she would be for any student, but the revelation that this one was Gryffindor would have struck her hard. Severus hoped that their future plans did not have to evolve around the old cat's maternal instincts.

            Draco and Harry were not yet present, but Severus felt the subtle presence of familiar magic at his back just then, and smoothly stepped aside from the door. Draco ducked in, giving him a single shining grin before he scampered to a random chair in the row. Harry came in more slowly.

            "What has changed between you?" Severus said in a low tone, the bored expression on his face so practiced that he doubted most would notice the movement of his lips. Albus, the truly dangerous one who might, could not see past Black's waving arms. "Draco does not look as he does by accident."

            "He offered to give me information and I'm going to help him investigate the death," Harry said, in a soft rush, and pushed past Severus, with a sneer that stirred memories Severus had not accessed in a long time.

            Severus half-shook his head and held down the memories on their short chains. Ironic, if I allowed a hatred of James's appearance in the boy to grow now.

            He drifted after Harry in the direction of the chairs, making sure to keep his nose turned up and his steps slow, as though reluctant to close the distance between him and the boy. Albus was watching now. Severus raised an eyebrow at him and studied Draco again, who had settled down and was sitting demurely with his hands clasped in front of him, but still smiled too widely at Harry.

            To have this kind of relationship between them...I do not like it. There is too much chance that Draco will take it the wrong way.

            Of course, Severus was not immediately worried that others would notice. The tentative alliance Granger and Weasley had built with Draco was falling apart now that they did not have their Harry to bind them together. Black and Minerva had never seen a reason to pay too much attention to Draco. Lucius would likely be pleased that his son was getting close to this version of Harry as well; Severus knew from certain hints Lucius had dropped that he looked forward to one of the versions of Harry surviving and electing to stay in their world and take the other one's place in all important ways. Reasonable, from a certain point of view. Until Harry, this time, had demanded that they research a way for him to return home, no one had thought such a thing possible.

            Albus was the dangerous one, and Severus fully intended to distract him.

            "Headmaster," he murmured when he saw that Albus was looking expectantly at him. Black straightened up and glared, which Severus ignored. There were more interesting things afoot than another squabble with the mutt. "I must speak to you about strengthening the wards. The Dark Lord made another test of them this morning."

            Albus's eyes briefly flared. He was formidable still, Severus thought, and he did not intend to underestimate him. Another thing I will have to teach Harry not to do. "I did not feel him."

            And that means that it cannot have happened, correct? As abuse you do not see does not happen. Severus chained and collared that old bitterness, too, and inclined his head. "I saw the signs this morning. The scorch marks on the grass, the cracks in the outer walls, the--"

            "How can you be sure that those are not from the assault by the Death Eaters?" Albus demanded.

            "I cast a potion on those marks that made them begin to green again," Severus said. "These are fresh, and black."

            "I do not know what purpose a sustained assault on the wards now will serve," Albus said.

            "Perhaps," Severus said, "he senses that we now have Harry."

            "So soon." Albus's face looked like the battlefield where one of the previous Potters had died for a moment. Then he shut his eyes, and his nostrils flared, and he drew from that well of boundless strength deep within himself that Severus knew existed but could not identify the source of. "Very well. We will incorporate this information into our plans, as well as the fact that he was evidently able to disguise the attack on the wards from my senses." He raised his voice. "Sit down, please."

            In fact, Black was the only one still standing, and he slunk away to his seat as Albus spoke, flashing his teeth at Severus like the cur he was. Severus smiled back at him with steel politeness--nothing more irritated a dog than a refusal to bite back--and took the last empty seat, between Lucius and Minerva.

            "I have just received information that Voldemort made an assault on the wards this morning," Albus said. "He tests our strength more and more, and I fear that we will soon be forced to fight whether we will or not. We must take the offensive. It is our best chance of surviving, and that means the world's only chance."

            Albus had straightened, and his voice came out like low, rolling thunder off a snowcapped mountain. If he had as much strength in his determination to spare others as in his determination to cast them forth into battle, Severus thought, he would have been the best leader the wizarding world had ever seen.

            "But does that mean that we have no training time for Harry?" Granger, leaning forwards, passionate about something that a different person could have been passionate about, as usual. "I thought he needed as much time as possible before he faced Voldemort, since he's so different from the one he knows."

            "So did I," Harry said, and Severus arched his eyebrows. If part of the boy's strategy was to convince them that he was impulsive and emotional and nothing else, then he should not use that quiet, firm tone. It was the tone of one who did not intend to yield to the control and guidance that the other deception would inevitably provoke from the members of the Order. "But I always knew that I wouldn't get it." He turned to Albus. "There's one thing I don't understand, though, sir. Why coordinate an assault like that when he must know that it would warn you?"

            "We would not have known the signs were there if not for Severus's clever idea of tracking the prior marks made by attacking Death Eaters," Albus said, and inclined his head to Severus. "He must have assumed that he could hide this attack in those signs."

            "But he's clever, you said," Harry persisted. "Why would he risk it?"

            Albus hesitated only a moment, but Severus saw it and curled up his lip in what no one else alive would recognize as a soundless laugh. He was not supposed to stymie you, was he?

            "Because he thought the risk that we would become aware worth the chance that otherwise you would be able to grow into a threat to him," said Albus quietly. "As I said, it was a very stealthy attack, and he might have gained a great prize. Voldemort is clever, yes, but he is more than just that. You always should remember that, Harry."

            "I will," Harry said, his eyes glittering like the light before a storm, and Severus wondered how many people the boy meant to include in his words. At least one more than Albus thinks is there, I would wager. "It still doesn't make much sense, though. Why not wait until I came out?"

            "As the esteemed Headmaster suggested," Lucius Malfoy murmured, "the Dark Lord knows the truths of the Order's numerous deceptions. He knows that you are a different Potter than the one born to oppose him. He might want to seize you and test your strength before facing you in a battle situation. You could be weaker, but you might also be stronger. He is never one to leave such matters up to chance if he can manipulate them in his favor instead."

            Harry nodded with some thoughtfulness on his face, and Severus had to control his wish to intervene, to tell the boy to never trust Lucius Malfoy. The man might still deliver true information in the context of serving himself, while never telling the truth in general. "All right. Does that mean--"

            Albus coughed. Not subtle, but it drew their attention.

            "I do have a plan to enable you to take the offensive, Harry," he said genially, when Harry turned his head, "as well as you give you a sense of what our enemy's strength is like. A scouting mission, if you will. There are spells that can infuse one's Patronus with the ability to hunt, to observe, and to use some of the wizard's magic, while largely keeping them from harm or open combat unless Dementors enter the scene. I would like you to send yours, in company with one or two of our members', to investigate Voldemort's latest camp and see what you can learn. If you have the chance to cause damage, of course, that would be welcomed."

            Harry frowned at him. "D'you mean Voldemort doesn't have the counter to anything like this?"

            "He is not able to make a Patronus himself," Albus said, smiling in contentment. He enjoys the universe when it works out according to his moral expectations. "That rather means that he cannot raise the wards against them."

            "But someone who follows him could have the ability," Harry said. "How safe are you sure this is, sir?"

            "As safe as one can be," Albus said, spreading his hands as though to defend himself from attack--or explanation. "You will not be physically present. You can look through the Patronus's eyes, but an assault on them will not harm you, though it may destroy that particular Patronus. In essence, it is like having an invulnerable familiar to send into battle."

            "Hmm." Harry leaned his head to the side and frowned hard, meanwhile swinging his legs against the chair. Severus wondered if he knew how oddly they combined, the adult expression on his face and the childish gestures of his body. "Does that change if I have a corporeal Patronus?"

            Severus felt his face change. Luckily, the others had done far more altering of their expressions, and Albus was not looking at anyone but Harry. Harry looked around in the intense silence and gave a faint smile before shrugging. "What? The other Harry couldn't do it?"

            "He could not," Albus said, finding his voice. "Understand, Harry, I am not doubting your word--"

            Of course you are, old man.

            "But I would like to see this demonstrated."

            "Sure." Harry rose to his feet and drew his holly wand with a gesture that made Draco look away. "Expecto Patronum!"

            The air coalesced in front of him, turning silvery--and, yes, solid. What flowed into being could be compared to the stag Patronus that Harry, the Harry Severus had known from his childhood, could cast only in the same way that a horse could be compared to a unicorn. It tossed shining antlers and turned its head to regally regard all of them, one hoof scraping slowly at sheer air. Then it galloped around the room at Harry's flick of a commanding wrist, coming to a stop in front of him and kneeling before it vanished like a parting cloud.

            So the boy does have a sense of showmanship. Severus watched as Harry lowered his wand, and wondered if he was the only one who thought the smile a smirk. That will serve him well.

            "That was brilliant," Weasley said, with what sounded like respect in his voice.

            "Yes, it was," Granger agreed.

            "Impressive, Mr. Potter," Minerva complimented.

            "Most," Lucius murmured, and left it up to everyone else to interpret what that meant.

            Draco watched Harry with his heart in his eyes.

            That left Black, who was frowning, and Albus. Severus could guess the source of Black's discontent easily enough. He would not like to see his own dead godson and ward outshone by a boy from a different world, however necessary that boy might be to the defense of their own.

            Albus smiled blandly a moment later and tossed out some compliment that made Harry smile, although he never took his eyes off Albus. But Severus had seen a hint of disquiet, a slight questioning, about the Headmaster's mouth.

            Not hatred. Not fear. Severus did not think Albus had ever truly believed that any Harry might betray them and join the Dark Lord, as some members of the Order had once whispered.

            But a realization. The same that touched Severus now, although he did not intend to allow himself to be discomfited by it.

            Things may be different this time.

*

            Review responses for chapter 3 are here: http://lomonaaerenrr.livejournal.com/33414.html
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