A Strange World

[A simple world]

Summery: A summoning goes wrong. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy caught in the middle. And Voldemort is alive. So are their parents. Life gets complicated.

--

James Potter was in the fight of his life, spellfire deadly and destructive flung everywhere. Hundreds of wizards and witches fought for their lives, as they charged against the forces of the dark lord, enranged, desperate, with hope in their eyes. It was a moment unlike any other, as the order members and the Aurors fought, united and driven, to stop the ritual of 'He Who Must Not Be Named'.

There was a moment when he wondered if he was doing right by his family, to stay and fight. He could have taken his family and fled to MACUSA. They could have lived a peaceful life, building something new and wonderful, without the rife corruption of the ministry or the terrorism of You-Know-Who. But he couldn't abandon his home, to be a coward and flee.

He knew what it was like to lose, to feel so desperate that it just felt right, and to fail with that knowledge. But James kept going, near-maddened, vicious, as he cut down a death eater in half with a cutting curse, or transfigured the ground to skewer a fool from balls to his skull. A man nearly killed him with a killing curse, but an Auror decapitated the skull-masked man with a deadly curse.

James killed the wanker that nearly got Frank, turning his heart to stone.

"Thanks, mate." Frank gasped out, just as quick to deflect an incoming dark curse aimed toward James. "You ready for this?"

"The dark wanker needs a lesson in humility I say, my good chap." James' cheery personability was a boon to his Auror forces. It also helped that they were trained forces, and the numbers from all over the sympathetic wizarding nation helped greatly.

A dozen war magus made inroads toward the entrance to the warehouse, and the main forces behind them were taking the Death Eaters' pound of flesh. James, Frank, and their unit fought through the few Death Eaters still remaining by the entrance and rushed through.

There, in the center of the warehouse, the ritual circle lay, embedded with priceless treasures, precious stones, and runes of recalling carved into the stone. And within the center of the ritual circle, there lay a glass vial with a drop of blood. The blood of his and Lily's firstborn, missing since the day Peter betrayed them to You Know Who. The day his mother died, and 'You-Know-Who's reign of terror ended. Her sacrifice led to the survival of Harry, only to have Peter standing over the corpse of his son, holding the wand of You-Know-Who.

James still remembered the day he squeezed the life out of Peter. Their son was dead. James will never forgive Peter, in this lifetime or the next.

They mourned their son, and secretly buried the body, on the advice of Dumbledore. A secret never meant to get out, and never have, as Dumbledore had ensured their son was merely missing, rather than dead. The story helped to ensure the dark lord's followers were more cautious should the You-Know-Who ever return.

James focused on the present, occluding his mind from distraction. The wards within the interior of the warehouse sprung up around the ritual circle, and the interior of the warehouse, as dozens of Death Eaters enacted the ritual.

"No, no!" James gritted, as the magic thickened within the warded ritual circle. He roared, "Take the ward down! Now!"

Their wands lit up, as magic assaulted the ward, only to bounce off the transparent dome of protection.

"Too late, Lord Potter," You Know Who glided forward, the unnaturally pale monster glided forward, hidden in the shadows of his robes."The summoning shall work, and your son shall meet the same fate as your parents, boy."

James glared at the bastard, blasting a curse at the ward to no avail. He couldn't reveal the truth, not now, even if he wanted to gloat. He knew the dark lord spent quite of bit of coin, influence, and connections to make this ritual happen. It would only bring satisfaction to look upon the dark lord's expression when he realizes he had been duped, that his own followers would look upon him as a weakness.

It was too late, as the ritual was activated.
Horrified, it didn't stop him from panicking. On the twelfth year, of the twelfth day, of the twelfth hour, of the twelfth minute, the ritual was complete. Magic reacted, giving the activated runes a glowing golden orange glow.

The air lit up like a supernova.

What were the chances of You-Know-Who summoning the spirit of his dead son? Magic required belief, intent, and desire. If belief was strong enough, and the intent powered by desire powerful enough, then anything was possible. Magic was possible within the impossible.

James Potter was nearly blinded by the wash of magical power. Just for a moment, then the light was gone the next.

---

Harry blinked, and half the living room was gone, replaced by someplace else, of concrete and old metal desks.

Voldemort was stood before them, alongside a dozen death eaters. Well, of course, they did...

"You are not Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. You aren't the right age." Lord Voldemort glided forward, the veil of transparent space the only thing separating the dark lord from killing them. "Who are you?"

Harry glanced at the dozen death eaters, the ritual circle, and the Aurors outside the warded dome. It appeared to be a warehouse, old and abandoned.

And, was that...

Harry glanced to his right. Draco, with his elfen, delicate features, looked like the offspring of a winter fae had spat out. The pale, silver hair was slicked back, short and stylish. His dark burgundy suit-robes fit him with a certain regal air. There was power in his furious grey eyes, as he contemptuously frowned upon the fellows behind the barrier.

Draco's cane tap-tap-tapping away as he turned to glare at Harry, and utterly ignored Voldemort.

"Potter, when this is over, I'm going to murder you in your sleep."

"I think I might have accidentally spiked both our drinks. I didn't think we would be having the same hallucinations."

"You wanker!" Draco seethed, stabbing his father's cane his way. "Why in Merlin's saggy tits would you spike my drink?!"

Harry snorted, and folded his arms. "You seriously need a good lay. I was going to introduce you to beautiful woman, but then the universe decided to-"

"Enough!" Voldemort roared, his magic saturating the air like a mountain, crushing and suffocating.

"You are not Harry Potter. Who are the both of you."

Draco stepped forward, eyeing the man and his cohorts with contempt and disgust. "I am lord Draco Lucius Malfoy, you worm. You should speak with more respect to your betters."

The present Death Eaters stilled, staring at the blond twat, perhaps shocked at his audacity, or perhaps at his name. Harry didn't know, nor did he care. One Death Eater in particular looked about ready to collapse before a companion caught him by the arm. Huh, despite the mask, he thought he recognized Draco's father underneath those dark robes.

"And I'm Harry Potter," Harry sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. "I thought I killed you, Voldemort."

The silence was heavy, tension racking up like a heavy oceanic pressure. "I'm going to kill you slowly, lord Malfoy. And Harry, death cannot stop me."

Harry snorted in contempt. "If you mean your poor man's attempt at immortality, it stinks of a child's short-sidedness. Honestly, people have claimed your genius, but I've always had my doubts."

Voldemort looked about ready to murder. If his furious expression hadn't given away, it certainly did when the bright, sickly green light splashed harmlessly against the veil separating them.

"Anger issues, how typical for a self-proclaimed dark lord," Draco sneered, the venom practically dripping from his words. He then went to the liquor cabinet, probably the only thing that miraculously survived in the room. He poured himself a finger of fire whiskey, dropped a spherical ball of clear ice, and sipped from the glass with a sigh. "Potter, take care of this, or I will."

"Why should I?! You make it sound like this was all my fault." Harry protested weakly.

"Something always goes wrong around you, Potter. You're a trouble magnet, a curse, a blight upon our society. The ministry had to create a separate Auror division just to clean up after your messes."

"That... seems a little excessive. And insulting."

"The Supreme Mugwump insisted. I backed his proposal.

The veil cracked, splintered, and the universe inverted upon itself.

Several things happened at once.

"Harry!" One of the Auror screamed in desperate horror. Harry frowned. He looked distinctly familiar, the auror's spells cracking the warded dome.

Several death eaters turned coat immediately, as they cast deadly curses at their once companions in a furious display of skill that stank of desperation.

Lord Voldemort cast the killing curse at Harry.

The glass of liquor intercepted the killing curse almost immediately, and Harry sent a wave of a hundred tiny shattered glass, ice, and alcohol back at Voldemort at hurricane speeds.

It was chaos.