Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does.

Chapter 10:

"I like to thank you again for agreeing to stay here at Hogwarts." Hermione thought Professor McGonagall sounded extremely brusque as she led Hermione and her friends into a large room. Professor McGonagall had ended their meeting rather abruptly when she received a letter. Before the letter, Hermione believed that they might have finally convinced the Headmistress to help them, but after it the woman turned stern and insisted that they stay hidden at Hogwarts. "This room is usually for staff, if you're curious."

"Thank you, professor," Hermione said politely as she looked around the room. While Dobby and Hermione waited patiently by the door, Ron immediately stomped over to one of the three beds spread close together in the right side of the room, sighing as he pushed one of the overhanging sheets to the side and Harry, lost in his own world as he had ever since the Snapes left the Headmistress's Office, staggered over to slump onto a brown couch between two chairs on the other side of the room.

"I had my Deputy Head add the two beds you see there. As you probably already guessed, there is normally only one. A bathroom is behind the door there." She pointed out a door beside a substantial portrait of an elderly wizard with a Gryffindor scarf.

"We very much appreciate this." Hermione said, resigned to the fact her friends were too distracted to be polite. Sure she was wished that Professor McGonagall warmed up to them instead of barely standing their presence and she wanted to forget the sight of a man who looked so alike the Professor who demeaned her and her classmates for years. But Hermione understood that acting all annoyed counteracted their chances for encouraging Professor McGonagall to help them.

"Very nice room, missus. Dobby like." Dobby grinned at the Headmistress, lowering his head respectfully. Well, at least, Dobby had good manners.

Professor McGonagall glanced around the room once more and then nodded. "I'll leave you to settle it. Call for one of our house-elves, you can simply say Hogwart's house-elf, and..." A house-elf poped it, bowing politely. "Well, I'm sure you understand." She nodded to the waiting house-elf. "House-elf." Hermione bit her tongue hard, annoyed by Professor McGonagall's blatant dismissal of the house-elf as a creature of value. "I'm sorry for disrupting you're day, we won't be needed you." The house-elf disappeared quickly after one more formal bow. "I think that's it. Have a good day."

After the woman left, Ron immediately started complaining. "Who does that woman think she is? Forcing us to stay here." On and on he went, expressing all his rage towards this living situation. "We're of age for Merlin sake. We're fighting in a war while she twiddles her thumbs. So what we don't belong here. We should at least be allowed to stay at Shell's Cottage and not locked like prisoners here."

Hermione guessed she should be a least graceful that he stayed quiet until now. He had stayed quiet when Professor McGonagall practically forced them to agree to stay here. Too many times Ron had acted irrationally temperamental against a person right after something did not go his way. But she was annoyed. She had hoped her friend would let her speak first, but, of course, that was too much to ask for.

"Why did you agree? Hermione? I'm talking to you." Ron waved his hand in the air, huffing loudly.

What did he expect? For her to pay close attention to his entire tirade. "I want us to have a safe place to say. There was no point in saying no. Also saying no would have insulted Professor McGonagall and where would we be now? Bill and Fleur are great, but they lack through access to knowledge that could help us that Professor McGonagall can get as Headmistress."

"Seriously?" Ron scoffed. "You think McGonagall's going to help with all her 'I'm still considering' and 'I will look into it.' She gave us nothing but shite."

Dobby perked up his ears nervously and he walked slowly over to them. "Hermy, Wheezy don't fight."

"Quiet you," Ron snapped, glaring at Dobby. "We'll stop fighting when want to."

"Ron." Hermione slapped him. "Don't demean him like that. Its bad enough that I had to listen to a version of my favorite teacher treat house-elves horribly all morning."

"And yet you go all, lets do what McGonagall says. Despite how little good she did."

Hermione groaned. "She only just met us. She needs some time to understand what we are going through. By the end of the week, trust me, she will find a way to help us home."

Ron crossed his arms and laughed weakly. "Trust you? When you're plan is to be stuck like prisoners in this room all day? We we're doing fine with Fleur and Bill. They we're the ones who discovered the knife and Dobby's blood was what transport us to this world."

"But Fleur still was not able to take us home. Sure the knife and Dobby brought us here, but the knife is still tied to bringing us to this world's Hogwarts." Hermione stared into Ron's flaring eyes, hoping he would see reason. "Professor McGonagall is a scholar she can help us find what would bring us to our world. Find us clear evidence instead of random theories like Fleur."

Ron opened his mouth, but then closed it, gazing widely at something behind her. In the silence, Hermione noticed the sound of loud crying and banging. She turned and the source made her want to cry herself. She discovered Dobby was wacking his head against the leg of the couch on the other side of the room. "Dobby's fault. All Dobby's fault."

Harry jumped upright from where he was brooding before on that couch and twisted his torso around to grab Dobby's arms and press them hard against the couch's leg.

"Harry. No. You're strangling him," Hermione yelled as she ran over to where Harry now crashed on the floor, his hands still trapping Dobby to the couch leg.

"Oh, don't say that Hermione. He's only calming Dobby down." Ron ran over to her, panting a bit.

"Dobby reason the Great Harry Potter sad," Dobby sobbed, tears leaking from his large, round eyes. "Dobby's blood did this. Dobby stuck Harry Potter and friends here."

"No, Dobby." Hermione eyes started to burn. "Its not. Not at all. Please. Stop hurting yourself. We..."

"We don't want to see you hurt yourself," Harry said softly, slowly loosening his grip. He shook off his shoe and, his fingers twitching, took off his sock. "Dobby, please, none of this is you're fault. None of this."

Harry handed his sock to Dobby and, the house-elf submerged his whole face into the dirty brown sock. Dobby remained unaware of the mud from the soiled sock that soon splattered over his face. Before Hermione knew it, Harry was hugging the poor elf tightly as they his big round eyes popped out a huge rush of tears, muttering something softly. All Hermione could think about was how wonderful the world would be if all wizards had this type of relationship with their house-elves.

555

Merope Gaunt appreciated how her friend Minerva McGonagall changed the projection in her office to show a nice snowy morning whenever she came to visit. The snow falling around the barren trees all around her reminded her of the night she first saved a life during the first Dumblewald War. She had recently joined the Resistance Compound in Manchester and was forced to go on a scouting mission outside one of the inferius infested camps. She had tried to resist, insisting that she was only good at healing and that she would be useless out on the field, but the Auror leading the Compound had told her that if she did not, she could go back home and tell a seriously ill Pollux Black that she chose to be a coward. She could not do that. She could not fail the man who loved her.

She and her partner - some redhead fellow she long forgotten the name of - had wandered into such a horrible snowstorm that they ended up separated. Alone and in the blistering cold, Merope had walked around the same patch of trees for hours an uncountable amount of times. She could still remember the frostbite slowly thickening on her face when she finally reached a stranger's tent.

She found a man lying broken in the tent, his legs tangled against a branch of wood and extremely hard snow. In a flash of inspiration, Merope had decided to save the man with the snow itself and a heating charm. She was still amazed that her spur of the moment idea had worked and changed her life forever. For the first time in her life, she gained a friend in Caspar Crouch.

After fixing Caspar, Merope had walked out to a similar scene to Minerva's wonderful display of snow falling from the sky as the moon and sky together brought out a dark navy light. Snow that promised hope for a better future. A future where she could spend her days treating people instead of being expected to play a hero in a resistance against the worst wizards ever known.

The future that, by some act of Merlin, was now her present.

A blue tea tray of scones, clotted cream and jam, and two tea cups resided on the table between her and Minerva. They were in the middle of one of their weekly teatimes. Merope long forgotten when the tradition started. The years as healer at Hogwarts blended into one long run of peaceful days.

Currently, Minerva was off complaining about a former student. "That's why I want to make sure Harris doesn't go wallow in self pity over not getting the Ghana job. He's such a prat when he does not reach his dreams and that does not make it any easier to deal with. He now wants to tell the board that I chose the wrong Potions master all these years and that is why he failed to win against a student from Beauxbatons."

"That's horrible of him." Merope drank some of her jasmine tea, enjoying how the nice rush of liquid lightened some of the itchiness in her throat. "Especially given that said Potions master going to lead the team when Clark leaves for Tokyo."

Minerva sighed. "Well, Harris always found a way to ruin Severus's concentration at the most awkward of times, so its no wonder Severus refused to give him a recommendation."

Merope laughed. Harris Fawkley sure did rattle Severus a lot when he was his student. Sometimes she would even visit him after his lessons that included Harris to help clean him up from whatever accidental explosion Severus caused when he became angry with the boy.

"What about you?" Minerva said after pausing for a sip of tea. "Anything new in you're life?"

"My brother sent me a letter. Apparently he's interested in reconnecting." Merope shivered. He and her father use to laugh so hard whenever she dropped anything before her brother beat her up and her father broke more furinture. "He's getting to his nineties, so I guess he's worried about me ruining the Gaunt name further if he dies soon."

"Still pretending he did not ruined it with his gambling debts?"

"As always." Sipping some more of the tea, Merope leaned back on the chair, noticing how her back ached from the movement. No doubt she was turning too old. A sad quandry. "I'm thinking about talking to him though, for some closure. Before its too late."

Minerva nodded while Merope drank some more tea. "Do you want me to come to? I hate the idea of you going alone?" Although Merope never actually told her friends the specifics of her childhood abuse, Minerva recognized that Merope never wanted to be alone with her brother.

"Oh, Minerva, that be..." Right when she was going to say 'wonderful' a owl swooped in through the center of Minerva's star-shaped window. The scruffy brown bird landed on Minerva's shoulder, prodding his foot out that had a letter attached. The Snapes owl, if Merope remembered correctly.

Minerva's eyebrows raised as she read through the letter. The wrinkles on her cheeks heightened when she took another sip of tea after she finished the letter, placing it near the tea tray.

"What's wrong?" Merope hated seeing her friend look so unrelaxed during her leisure time. Minerva's life was hard enough running a school full of misbehaving students and emotional teachers, and constant needing to please intrusive governors.

"Do you remember the three strangers who I met with this morning?"

Merope nodded, patiently waiting for her friend to continue. She knew who her friend was talking about. She rather enjoyed her conversation with Dobby. The house-elf told her a bit about how one of the strangers, a Harry Potter, had freed him from abusive owners. Strange enough, he reminded her a bit of her.

"I placed them in one of the staff quarters with some of the school's house-elves watching them because of something they told me and the Snapes, who came in while I talked with the four of them. They told us they met with Harry Snape at Bill Weasley's house before they came back. The Snapes decided to check and found the house empty with blood on the floor. They're now writing me letters every hour asking if I seen their son yet. I hate it. I want some time off worrying about it, but they keep reminding me about the problem."

Only one answer seemed likely to Merope. "You think the strangers kidnapped Harry Snape?"

To Merope's surprise, Minerva shook her head. "No. I think Harry Snape visited that house and for some reason got into a fight with Bill or his fiancé, Fleur, and those four left scared about what to do and came to Hogwarts with some wild story to keep Bill and Fleur from trouble. They probably had an alteration the first time too that left the four strangers disorientated."

That sounded reasonable.

"I only wonder how Harry was taken to Bill's."

Merope thought back to something she heard earlier that day. "I might be able to answer that. A Ravenclaw student, I forget her name, she's the one with a twin sister."

"Padma Patil."

"That's it. Yes. She saw a house-elf take Harry Snape away from the school. I think she heard it call itself Bobby, but she may have misread and it was the Dobby you're talking about."

Minerva nodded, smiling slightly. "That's probably how the Snape boy was involved. I need to talk to Bill, but I'm sure once we find him we'll learn that he had an accident during one of his curse breaking attempts and that led the current problem of confused individuals."

"You're likely right." Merope passed one of the scones to her friend. "Eat up. There's nothing you can but wait."

Minerva smiled, taking the scone. She stared at the pastry for a moment before slowly spreading some clotted cream on it. After spreading back and forth with a knife, Minerva abruptly dropped the knife. A cluttering sound rang on the floor. Leaning forward awkwardly, Minerva said, her voice slightly cracked, "Merope. You know how impatient I am. Most of the time I have answers that I am sure are true, but now, I don't know if I'm right or not and its scares me."

"About what?" Was she talking about what happened to the four strangers or what was going on with the Snape boy?

"To think Sybil might be right." Minerva muttered to herself, blankly staring straight ahead.

"Who?" The name sound faintly familiar.

Minerva straightened, her expression serious. "Sorry, Merope, but I need some time alone."

Something in her eyes scared Merope. They looked so dark, nothing like the brightness usually there. What was her friend not telling her?

555

Bill Weasley had seen some scary shite during his time working in Egypt. From the skulls of mummified bodies to inferi coughing up dirt in the ancient pyramids, Bill thought he saw the worst of the horror within the world. But that wizard that looked like some hybrid of a skeleton and a snake, and acted like a malevolent wraith reminded Bill of one of those serpopards - a nasty hybrid of snakes and lions that like to kill travelers by wrapping their slimy necks around their poor throats - his Egyptian work colleague Gamal Hazem once described during one of their breaks in the tombs.

The wizard might as well of chocked him. Bill still shivered at the memory of the wizard chuckling with glee about killing Harry Potter. Bill pitied how Justin Potter had to face the serpopard-like wizard directly. Man, the wizard almost killed Potter. If Mr. Snape never came, they all would be dead, their last sight the grotesque image of a snake gone rabid.

What an idiot he was, dismissing those four strangers so hard the days before. He spent so much time doubting the existence of alternative universes and now he almost died in one. Sure, it was easier to believe in another world once you were the one stuck in the wrong one. But still he ridiculed his fiancé, called her a fool and he could never take that back.

They would likely die here in this dangerous world. Whether it be that wizard or one of his followers who were able to overtake he and Fleur easily. They may never return home. He may never finally do the impossible- change his mother's stubborn opinion against Fleur. Being here sucked far worst then the time he tumbled into goblin manure with the team near Tia's tomb and ate the shite that tasted like undercooked sausage covered in vomit.

Those worries would have to wait. The more pressing concern was how to answer the Irish boy's question.

"I'm talking to Harry. Not, holy Merlin, you look like Snape. How is that possible?" Harry Snape had, likely by instinct, answered the Irish boy's greeting. Of course, the boy meant the other Harry, Harry Potter, who was probably still stuck in Bill's world.

"Er." Snape shifted awkwardly.

"Ez't it obvious?" Fleur jumped in, snorting lightly. Sometimes Fleur's ability to lie and still act upfront amazed him. "Harry and little Poly'jus accident, so now 'e look like Snape and Ron..." She walked over to Potter and tapped his head. "He iz who look like 'arry with different eyes."

The Irish boy's eyes widened. "Ron, mate, I guess you finally got your wish."

Potter laughed. "Of course. I want to be a Potter. Don't I."

Geez, that boy was dumb. It was such an obvious trick question. Never trust a goblin who opens their mouths with galleons.

The Irish boy looked uncomfortable, his gaze shifting between Potter and Snape. "Who came up with the D.A's name?"

Why would he ask something like that?

When working with Goblins, they talked with their own codes of conduct. A jewel for a secret. A curse for a hint. A pile of dirt for some firewhiskey. He long gave up on goblins telling him the reasons behind those random terms of give and take and went the direct route instead - telling the truth to strike a deal.

"Look." Bill began. "We're not from around here. I know that sounds crazy, but we're from another world."

"Weasley, quit it. He's not going to believe us anymore than you believed them." Potter glared at him.

Bill knew how ironic it was that he was trying to convince the boy. But he was not going to fall into the age-old trap of lying in order to not have to convince someone about an improbable truth. "I'm telling you the truth. Three people from this world, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and their house-elf came to my house a few days ago. I didn't believe them. Thought they were bonkers as I'm sure you think I am."

"He's nuts, right?" The Irish boy loudly asked Potter, who nodded.

"He's not." Snape snapped, taking something from his pocket. "We're really from another world. This knife." He held out the knife that took them to this rotten world. It glistened in the dark hall. "Mixed with Potter's house-elf's blood took us here from our world. These people stupidly convinced me to use this to follow the Potter you know."

"Hey. If I recall correctly. I wanted to stay behind." Bill shouted, hating Potter more and more by the minute.

"Yeah, and it was you Potter who wanted to come here in the first place." Snape said nastily.

Potter took out his wand and hexed Snape. After sprouting deer ears, Snape hexed Potter back with a dancing jinx. Soon spells were flying everywhere. The Irish boy gasping in wonder, looking back and forth between the two foolish boys.

"Enough!" Fleur grabbed the boys by the ears. Bill diverted many of the hexes coming her way from the still fighting boys. Suddenly a strange barrier arose from the Irish boy's wand and the hexes dissipated into meaningless lights.

"Woah." The magical barrier was out of this world. Bill never seen something like that.

While Fleur berated Potter and Snape for fighting, the Irish boy moved to stand beside Bill.

"It's just a shield charm." The Irish boy shrugged, shaking his head.

A shield charm. What was that?

The Irish boy was still talking. "So, you might be crazy and all, but I do prefer you to the Harry and Snape look-a-likes."

Bill laughed. "Don't worry about it. If I was you, I wouldn't believe the truth either. But trust me, the last thing we want to do is help the snake-like man."

"The who?"

"Volde-" Fleur began. Oh, right, Voldemort, the villain the people from this world had named in his living room in order to test some Trace.

"Don't say his name. It will spark the Trace," the Irish boy hissed.

"Oh yes!" Fleur smiled brightly. "The Trace. It convinced 'arry, 'ermione and Ron they in our world."

"Guess the French lady's bonkers as well," the Irish boy muttered.

"Look Irish boy..." Something in Bill's face must have scared the Irish boy because he backed away to the wall.

"I know, mate. Never call a beautiful lady nuts." He turned to Fleur. "Sorry, mademoiselle. Didn't mean to offend. By Charlie, my girlfriend would kill me for what I said."

"No problem." Fleur grinned. "I know you a dumb little Irish boy. Your words no hurt at all."

The Irish boy's face reddened. "You know you remind me of someone. The French Champion from the Triwizard Tournament used to say such things about all the boys in my year and below."

"Fleur Delacour. Am I correct?" Fleur asked him, holding back a laugh.

"Yeah. Fleur." His voice sounded wistful. Just like all the bloody blokes who raved over the Triwizard Winner.

"I don't know about all of you," Potter interrupted their conversation. "But I think we should get out of this corridor before someone finds us. I rather not meet that bastard again."

"Don't be such a wuss, Potter." Snape snapped. "He's not just going to appear in the middle of the corridor.

"He might." The Irish boy looked around nervously. "Er. See, I'm not supposed to allow anyone not in the D.A. in. I'm pretty sure you're not with You-Know-Who, but I can't really take you in."

"So, what do you suppose we do? Lie around this corridor hoping not to die," Potter snarled, his voice hoarse.

"No. We got a backup place in cases such like yours." The Irish boy pretended to raise a glass. "So, who's with me?"

Bill looked at Fleur and they both nodded. They then looked at the younger boys, Potter sighed and Snape gritted his teeth before both nodded as well. At least this was a start to finding a way to survive in this strange new world.

555

One of the few things Voldemort enjoyed was torturing. As he crucioed the female Carrow, Voldemort felt like he was in the middle of a glorious tea party. Only in this case, his guest was shrieking during the celebration. In between sips of his drink of choice - a shot of tequila- he shot another wonderful Crucio at his servant. In between shrieks, she begged for forgiveness. Little did she know that, even if he did forgive her, he would not let her live for she was the only one who could tell others that he - the greatest and most powerful wizard alive - was bested from killing the weak and trembling Harry Potter by a traitorous servant. With her dead, Voldemort could tell the other mindless scum of his that Severus Snape stole Potter right before Voldemort arrived to kill the boy.

"Please oh powerful master. Please let me find the traitor. I will not fail you." The female Carrow shivered, her breast smushed against the filthy floor.

"Not fail me? You already failed." Voldemort rose his wand against her temple.

"Not again. Please. Please master. I beg of you. Don't torture me again."

"Is that what you want?" The female Carrow nodded.

Voldemort loved the terror in her eyes. He could not wait for the hazel-orange irises to turn forever vacant. "And so, shall you get it. Avada Kedavra."

Yes. He loved her dead, quiet body. Blank, unseeing eyes. Wide-opened mouth that he could cut into and make into a mangled mess. Unmoving pink arms, ready to feed Nagini after he had his fun. He could beat this dead carcass without having to deal with it squirming for forgiveness. All people were animals and Voldemort knew just where to shoot them in the heart.

"My Lord?" Yaxley arrived through the open door. He led his many devoted followers who followed the blond-haired man's lead with reverent bows.

Voldemort wished that he could have the servants that were now arriving to join the Female Carrow as cadavers. But he needed them if he wished to finally beat the Potter boy and rule Wizarding Britain. Forever.

The male Carrow let out a cry of anguish when he arrived with Crabbe and Goyle.

Snape. Bloody Severus Snape. One of his most trusted and prized servants. Yet the man had betrayed him. The man stole his chance to finally end Potter. He could remember the boy's sacred face, completely helpless and ready for his end. That was all for not though, for Snape rescued him. The man would pay. For the scoundrel had betrayed him after all he done for him.

"Severus Snape has betrayed us all." Voldemort finally greeted his audience of servants, all of their useless faces looking eager for orders. "He not only took Potter away from Professor Carrow who was able to capture the boy, but also killed her. His treachery will not go unpunished. Yaxley, Crabbe, Goyle find him and bring him to me."

The three eagerly nodded.

"We will have justice done." Yaxley shouted. His shrill voice unnerved Voldemort. No one should talk with so much feeling.

"You three may go."

After they left, Voldemort turned his gaze around the room, trying to find the perfect target. He needed someone who would capture Potter without hesitation. Someone smart and ruthless. A follower who would not fail him.

"Bellatrix. Find Potter. Bring him to me as soon as you find him."

AN-

I was completely amazed by the huge amount of followers/favorites that occurred after the last chapter. Thanks everyone! I would especially like to thank JeanAndBilius, Purpleradiance and Panther73110- you really made me eager to continue this story.

I'm also excited for next chapter. Bellatrix is going to be wicked and the Acromantulas will return.

HappyTerrier