A/N: Ahh, to be back in the HP fandom once again. Hi guys. I'm taking an old idea of mine and redoing it on this account. Sooo, if you recognize it, yeah, that's me. Again. :D

I've mostly limited myself to DN fanfiction these past few months, so being back in HP is weird (but I was here for years!) This isn't my first rodeo, and reviews are appreciated for sure! So, yeah, for those alternate universe buffs out there, this one's for you!!!

Disclaimer: No, I don't own Harry Potter. Only the plot to this wee little fanfiction. And this disclaimer goes for the whole shebang.

Dark Side of the Rainbow

This Side of Reality

"Do you mind keeping Dorlene company for a moment, Al?"

Albus shot his father a pleading, incredulous look, which Harry tactfully ignored. "I've got to check in with Kingsly, but it shouldn't take me long, Al," assured Harry, squeezing Albus' shoulder briefly in what he thought might have been a comforting gesture. It didn't work.

"Erm -" started Albus. Being stranded at the security desk with some doddering old witch was the last thing he wanted to do.

"You don't mind, do you Dorlene?" asked Harry.

"Oh heavens no, Mr. Potter! I would be delighted!" exclaimed the older witch, clapping her hands in joy. Harry flashed the old woman a smile, gave Albus a warning look, and then proceeded through the golden gates to the elevators. Albus stifled a groan as soon as he lost sight of his father in the crowd. There was no use for it. He was stuck.

Albus stood awkwardly infront of Dorlene's large desk, not really knowing what to do. There wasn't anywhere for him to sit. Thankfully, Dorlene seemed to cotton on to his predicament after a brief moment.

"Come on! Come and sit, dear!" said the woman, conjuring a chair and solving Albus' dilema. He eyed the crooked, wooden chair with some trepidation before gently seating himself. Albus sighed softly, resigned. Why did his father insist on doing this to him every time Albus accompanied him to the Ministry? And always Dorlene, too. She never even remembered who he was.

"Now, tell me all about yourself! You're Mr. Potter's second son. Alfred, right? Are you having a good summer?" asked Dorlene, leaning in excitedly.

Albus conciously stopped himself from leaning away, not wanting to appear rude. She always called him 'Alfred,' no matter how many times he'd correct her. Albus finally gave up after the fifth visit.

Everytime his father would leave him in the lobby, Dorlene would ask Albus the same questions, simply because she forgot who he was between visits, and Albus eventually began to pretend that it was his first time meeting her too, if only to avoid unnecessary confusion. His father said she suffered from some funny spell damage from the Second War, but Albus thought she was just off her rocker, spell damage or no.

"Erm, yes ma'am. Summer's been . . . good," he finished lamely. Albus hated making small talk. He was bollucks at it. James, on the other hand, seemed to posses a natural knack for it, much to Albus' chagrin.

Dorlene giggled, her wrinkled jowls bouncing. "And you're going into your seventh year at Hogwarts?"

"Sixth, actually," corrected Albus, wincing when his chair gave an ominious creak. He glanced surreptiously through the gate. How long did he have to suffer through this, anyway?

"Really? But you look so grown up!"

"Oh, well, I suppose," replied Albus, shifting uncomfortably on the hard chair. The woman obviously needed to practice her conjuring spells.

"Well, do you play that sport for you school? quid – something or other?" continued Dorlene, oblivious to Albus' discomfort.

Albus paused. Quid – something? "You mean Quidditch?"

"No, dear. I don't believe so. But it's the one played on brooms, with the hoops?"

Albus just nodded dumbly. Batty. That's what she was, but he ploughed on with the conversation all the same.

"Ah, no. My brother James plays for Gryffindor, but I never really much cared for trying out," answered Albus.

"Oh, yes, James Potter! I remember him! Such a lovely young man. He would always stop and say 'hullo' on his way to where ever those Auror recruits went. You know, back when I worked in Mrs. Hopkirk's office. I made better money there, now that I think about it . . ."

It took Albus a moment to realize that the old lady was talking about his grandfather rather than his brother.

"Er -"

"Yoohoo! Ms. Crockford!"

Albus was saved from making a response with the appearance of a tall, balding wizard with, strangely enough, one eyebrow.

"Reginald! Oh, Reggie! How are you?" gushed Dorlene.

"Fine, fine, Dorie. And yourself?" returned the man, who completely ignored the teenager sitting awkwardly in the wooden chair next to Dorlene's desk. Albus eyed the old man with interest. He hadn't seen him before at the Ministry.

"Just dandy!" and then Dorlene giggled unbecomingly. Albus coughed and looked away. He felt distinctly out of place.

"What about that sister of yours? How's Doris doing these days?" asked the man, Reginald or Reggie, as he leaned casually against Dorlene's desk.

"Oh, that old witch! Drives me up the wall, I tell you! I have half a mind to throw her in St. Mungo's ward for the incurably insane!"

"St Mungo's?! Aw come on, Dorie! Surely she's not all that bad," grinned Reginald.

Dorlene leaned forward conspirationally and lowered her voice. "Do you know who she's dating nowadays?"

"Who?" asked Reginald, lowering his voice in return. Albus silently rolled his eyes before turning his whole body to get a good look at the elevators. He was beyond subtlety now.

"Florence Minglehump!" said Dorlene with relish.

"Florence Minglehump! I can't belie – wait. Who's Florence Minglehump?" asked Reginald, rubbing his chin. The man looked like he was thinking hard.

"No, no, no! It's not a who! It's a what!"

"What?" asked Reginald, his one eyebrow rising in surprise.

"Florence Minglehump is -" Dorlene paused for dramatic effect. "- a rooster!"

Reginald gasped with the appropriate amount of shock. "A rooster?!"

Dorlene nodded emphatically. "Yes, yes! I told you she was crazy! First Albus Dumbledore and that goat, now my own sister and a rooster!"

Albus' head shot up from where he had been staring at the marble floor, willing it to magically catch on fire so he'd have a good excuse to leave.

Albus Dumbledore dated a goat?

"No, that was Alberforth Dumbledore that did - well, you know, with a goat," said Reginald, gesturing wildly.

"Really? Oh yes, I remember now. You're right. It was Alberforth," said Dorlene, and Albus sighed in relief. He was afraid his parents had been keeping things from him about his namesake.

Dorlene yawned and scratched her whispy brown hair. Albus was slightly horrified to realize that Dorlene must have been wearing a wig for her scalp and hair to move so freely with each scratch.

"So who's this strapping young fellow? He looks a bit like Harry Potter," said Reginald, seeming to finally notice that Albus had been sitting there the entire time, and that it was just a tiny bit rude to have ignored him thus far.

"Him? That's -" Dorlene paused, staring at Albus with wide, confused eyes. "William. That's William Weasley."

"Weasley, huh? I've never seen a Weasley without red hair before! How do you do? Reginald Cricket's the name," greeted Reginald, holding out his hand.

"How do you do," replied Albus, shaking the man's hand, and not bothering to correct Dorlene.

Being Harry Potter's son usually brought trouble, even if the worst of it was only a few determined papparazzi. So if Reginald Cricket wanted to think he was William Weasley, then Albus wasn't going to disillusion him of the fact anytime soon.

With introductions out of the way, Reginald and Dorlene went back to ignoring Albus in favor of sharing outrageous gossip.

After ten more minutes of hearing about so and so supposedly cheating on his third wife with a house elf, Albus gave up. He'd rather wait by the fountain. Neither of them noticed him get up.

With nothing else to do but wait, Albus wandered the atrium, ignoring the suspicious looks the guard threw him now that he was away from Dorlene's 'watchful' eye. There were only a few people in the atrium, and all of them had come from the elevators and were making their way out the building. Albus ignored them.

He checked his watch again. It had been twenty minutes since his father had gone to see the minister. There was a good chance he'd be twenty minutes more. Albus blew out a breath, and eyed the fountain that dominated the sizeable lobby, reading the small plaque at the base for perhaps the hundredth time in his life.

All proceeds from the Fountain Memoriam will be given to the Dumbledore Memorial Trust for War Oprhans.

He dug into his pocket and pulled out a knut.

"I wish Dad would hurry up and come on." Albus threw the knut into the fountain.

He glanced over towards the elevators. A few people lingered, waiting for the doors to open, which it did, but there was no one with messy black hair exiting. No such luck.

Albus sighed, and then jumped in surprise as someone grabbed his shoulder.

"Hey, kid! No loitering! If you've got some place to be, then I suggest you get to it," growled the guard.

Albus opened his mouth, intending to tell the guard that he was waiting for his father, but thought better of it. It would surely lead to questions – his name, his father's name, etc. - and Albus just wasn't up to deal with any fumbling apologies or starry-eyed looks.

"Yes, sir," he said instead, and then made his way towards the gate, slipping through unnoticed by Dorlene, Reginald, or the patrolling guard.

"Bah. Might as well see what Granddad is up to. Surely Dad will figure out where I am," mumbled Albus to himself, pushing the button for the elevator.

The doors dinged opened, letting out a small crowd of people, and Albus entered with a platoon of paper airplane memos and a youngish looking man who nodded at him. Albus nodded back.

"What level?" asked Albus politely.

"Seven, thanks," smiled the man.

The elevator doors opened to the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and Albus took in what little he could see of the untidy corridor wallpapered with Quidditch posters in interest. He hadn't visited that particular level in the Ministry for quite awhile. Maybe his father would let him sneak a quick peak before heading back home.

When Albus reached his grandfather Weasley's office, the secretary tartly informed him that Mr. Weasley was out to lunch and wasn't expected back for at least another forty minutes.

With a defeated sigh, Albus nodded, and the secretary promptly ignored him, turning back to her paperwork. Albus rolled his eyes.

He was half way back to the elevator when he was struck by an idea.

Why not check out the Department of Magical Games and Sports now? He had time to kill, and he'd only take a quick look around – just enough to see what was there, anyhow. He hadn't visited in over a year. It could have changed, and if not, at least he'd waste a few minutes.

Albus was quick to enter the elevator, and this time he was alone. With a small smile, he pressed seven.

When the elevators doors opened, Albus stepped out eagarly, only to come up short when he didn't recognize his surroundings. Gone were the Quidditch posters and paper balls littering the floor. He was in a dark, circular room, dimly lit by candles of blue fire bracketed to the walls. Black, identical doors lined the room.

Albus swallowed, hard. He knew he pressed number seven, but this obviously wasn't the right floor, so where was he?

The elevator door closed behind him with an ominous thud that echoed in the silent hall, and suddenly, the room was spinning. Albus braced his knees to keep from falling over, and just as quickly as it had begun, the spinning stopped. The elevator was on the other side of the room now.

Albus tried not to panic as he crossed to room to the elevator. The staircases in Hogwarts moved. Why not rooms in the Ministry of Magic? But his determination to keep panic at bay wavered with each push of the elevator button. No matter how many times he jabbed it, the doors just wouldn't open.

He was stuck.

Albus groaned. This was just his rotten luck! What would his father say? He wasn't supposed to leave Dorlene! And he surely wasn't with Granddad, which Dad might have mildly scolded him for because he left Dorlene without him knowing, but that was it! He wouldn't have gotten in trouble past that!

But this?

Harry Potter was very protective when it came to his children. A little too protective, if anyone cared for Albus' opinion, which many did not. If Albus really was stuck in some twirling room in the Ministry, then he didn't doubt that two minutes after his father finds him missing, the whole Auror Department would be alerted.

Albus cringed. How embarrassing.

Surely he could find his way out of here before it came to that? With Albus' luck, his little misadventure would be plastered all over the Daily Prophet by this time tomorrow. He had to find a way back to the lobby before it came to that. Albus eyed the row of doors. Maybe one led to stairs? Did the Ministry even have stairs? Well, there was only one way to find out.

His plan was good in theory, but in practice, it fell short. His first obstacle was the doors themselves. Who made doors without doorknobs? Obviously people in the Ministry did.

Albus tried to pry one door open with his fingers, but all he got for his troubles was a bent finger nail. He could take out his wand and try opening the door, but he was only sixteen and thus it would be illegal. Then again, he was stuck in an unknown room somewhere in the Ministry of Magic. That had to count as some kind of emergency, shouldn't it? A mild one, at the very least. And, besides, there wasn't any muggles around to see anyhow.

Albus pulled out his wand, and cast a well aimed 'alohamora,' which, to his surprise, actually opened the door.

"Huh. That was easier than I thought it'd be," he said to himself. Albus kept his wand out, just in case. Who knew what lurked behind door number one.

The door closed behind him, but Albus paid no mind. He was awed by the grand room he found himself in. It was a beautiful room, lit by beautiful, dancing diamond-like light, and on every square inch of wall space was a clock. There were clocks of all shapes and sizes, and most pecularly, there were old fashioned hourglasses too.

Albus turned slowly around, admiring the room dedicated to time, obviously.

"This is weird," he muttered to himself, as he picked up an hourglass that was attached to a necklace, and studied it. He didn't know exactly what it was, but it was interesting all the same.

He glanced around. There had to be hundreds of these odd necklaces.

A loud booming noise caused Albus to jump, and he almost dropped the necklace he was holding. He reached blindly into his robes for his wand, which he had foolishly put up when he realized it was only a room full of clocks.

It took him a long second to realize that the loud booming sounds was just the clocks chiming the hour. However, there were so many clocks, it sounded much more terrifying than it actually was.

Albus let out a shaky laugh, amused at himself, but his amusement was short lived.

"Oh, shit. Is that really the time?" asked Albus. He had been gone from the lobby longer than he'd originally thought.

He groaned. "Dad's going to kill me."

At least on this side of the door, there was a doorknob. Albus opened the door without trouble, and entered back into the blue lit room. As soon as the door to the clock room clicked close, the room began to spin.

"Not again," cried Albus, this time falling to the ground. He landed heavily on his side, and was surprised to hear a crack, along with a pain in his hip.

He heart seized. "Oh, Merlin! Not my wand!"

He reached blindly into his his robe, only to jerk his hand back. He blinked at the small cut on his finger. The blood welled slowly.

No, thank Merlin, that hadn't been his wand. Albus opened his robe pocket wide, so he could see inside without reaching in a feeling around. It was the hourglass necklace.

"Oh, no," whispered Albus. He must have shoved the necklace in his robe when he was reaching for his wand. He hadn't even thought about it, and now he'd broken some Ministry artefact. Merlin only knew what it was, anyhow. It could be something really rare, or expensive. He wouldn't face time in Azkaban, would he? He stomach rolled at the thought.

Well, he'd just have to get rid of the evidence then. His robe pockets were big enough to keep all the sand and glass together for now. He'll dump it when he gets home. Maybe he could bury in the woods or something.

It was about this time that Albus really really wished he'd stayed home and helped his mum clean the house instead of going with his father to the Ministry.

Albus pulled himself to his feet, and determinedly aimed his (thankfully) intact wand at another door.

"Alohamora!"

. . . . nothing.

Albus growled under his breath.

"Alohamora!"

. . . . still nothing.

"Fine. Be that way," he gritted. He turned his wand to the next door.

"Alohamora!"

This time he was rewarded with the door creaking open. Albus squared his shoulders, and pulled it open all the way, walking in. Like last time, the door shut behind him on its own, but this time, the sound echoed ominously thoughout the vast, stone chamber he now found himself in.

"Creepy," he whispered, afraid to let his voice get any louder than that.

It was a dimly lit, rectangular room with stone tiers leading down to a pit in the center. It sort of reminded Albus of an amphitheatre. In the pit sat a raised stone dias, and on it was a large, stone arch with strange carvings. Albus assumed it might have been runes, or something to that effect. A tattered black curtain hung from the arch, and it seemed to be blowing forward slightly on some silent wind.

Albus couldn't help but be drawn towards it.

Before he realized it, Albus was in front of the strange archway, cocking his head to one side. He swore he heard something – something like whispers, but it was awfully faint. The black curtain was so close now that Albus could reach out and touch it. And what was the harm in that, anyways? Hell, he'd already broken some odd necklace. How much more damage could he honestly do?

Albus reached out his hand.

The door to the chamber slammed open, startling Albus. He twisted his body towards the door, but his feet tangled together, and he found himself falling backwards. He tried to grab for something – anything – and reached for the veil, but trying to grasp the black veil was like trying to grab water. It slipped through his fingers.

He caught a glimpse of the chamber filling with red robed Aurors, and the sound of his father's yell echoed against the stone walls and through Albus' ears.

"ALBUS! NOOO!"

A/N: Ahh, that feels nice. I love posting a new chapter. :D

Sooo, yep. There we have it. It starts getting exciting next chapter. Obviously. And I would sooo love to hear what you, my dear reader, thought about this first chapter.

SAY SOMETHING!