Part: 01/??
Pairing: Harry/Tom (for now)
Warnings: insanity? not the humor kind, but real insanity. angst, slash and sex. blood and morbid themes. i am not for children
Rated: R
Disclaimer: Not mine, need I have to say? The character have their rightful owners (who I am too lazy to name off), I'm just borrowing them for some one my little ideas.
Noted: I don't have a beta, so forgive my errors. Also, I haven't read "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" in a year and I don't own a copy. Heh, whatever. Enjoy. :) This is going to be fun.
He once dreamed he was Alice.
He hadn't been wearing the cute blue dress she had in the Disney creation of the tale. He had been wearing Dudley's hand-me-downs. They were the newer ones; the ones where with the pants the belt was that the tightest notch possible and the t-shirt sleeves nearly brushed his wrists. He was sure he was growing, he was at that age after all, but Dudley's increasing large clothes only made his feel like he was still that same size as he was when he was eleven.
He felt he was lucky for not having the dress. Though, he almost preferred it to Dudley's clothes.
He once heard Hermione talking about how dreams where nothing more then the elements of your life jumbled around by your unconscious mind (she was probably scolding someone for believing in Trelawney too much). He figured, afterwards when he was awake, that was true. Hermione was rarely wrong and how else would one explain why his dream started off with him sitting under the Whomping Willow?
The tree had looked peaceful enough, but from previous experience, he didn't want to risk it. His dreaming mind was almost like his waking one it would seem. He hurried away from the tree and out onto the midnight blue grass of the yard outside of Hogwarts (he didn't question why the grass was blue). He kept a distrustful eye on the tree for a moment before turning fully away.
Only to be run over.
It was not the shock of a lifetime, that was for sure. He had real shocks before, so a bump only made him stumble a little. The real surprise was in who had bumped him.
Dobby.
Wearing bunny ears, a tailcoat with a golden pocket watch and a fluffy tail.
Really, he tried not to laugh.
Dobby's wide, rounded eyes took him in before he squealed and jumped away. The house elf turned rabbit fumbled to pull the watch out of his pocket. His fingers tightened on the timepiece as he made another terrible high-pitched sound.
"Dobby is late!" He yelled and took off again.
Harry, who should have had his fill of weird by now and pitched his arm to end the dream (a technique he was proud of being able to do), stared after the little creature for a moment before taking off after him. Curiosity licked at his mind, the kind of curiosity that only Hermione could surpass when she was in full research mode.
Dobby was fast for a small elf and Harry wasn't too much faster (which, would later seem strange to him). Dobby had jumped into a hole moments before Harry could catch up. Without really thinking (something that he was neither proud or unhappy about doing), he jumped in as well.
And had the fall of a lifetime.
He missed out on most of it. His t-shirt had become untucked from his pants and it flew up over his head. He lost it all together at one point, finger just missing grabbing it. The thought that he was falling, shirtless, with his pant legs fluttering up over his knees, was kind of disturbing, and he was happy when it was over.
He landed on his feet, which didn't even seem odd at the time. He could hear Dobby running and berating the horrible horrible lateness up ahead of him. He followed the sound.
The door, which Dobby had run through, was just big enough to be house elf sized. Harry figured, he could probably squeeze his way through, but the door wouldn't have it. It insisted that he take a shrinking potion before even trying.
Harry, seeing that he really couldn't go back the way he came, shrugged and looked for the potion.
He found it on a shelf. It had Snape's slightly slanted scribblings across the label (just instructions and warnings). He looked at the door, then the bottle, shrugged and took a drink.
He was the size of a house elf in no time.
The door was asleep when he got back to it. This annoyed him so much that he punched it in the nose (which, oddly enough, was the knob of the door). The door screamed and swung open, yelling about what a horrible boy he was.
What do doors know anyways?
He ran down the path. He had fallen quite a distance behind Dobby now, and probably didn't have much luck in catching up. Maybe, if he went in the same basic way, he'd figure out what the house elf was late for. Something that would make the journey worth taking.
He lost his ways at a crossroads. Not really wanting to stop, he took the right road and kept going. He knew his luck and he knew this probably wasn't the way that Dobby had gone, but he had to keep going in a direction for some reason.
So he kept going.
Until he ran across a table set up for tea. Half the table was full of dirty dishes and crumbs. The other half seemed still clean. Between these two halves were Dumbledore, Snape and Trelawney all sitting calmly holding cups of tea. Mice sized versions of Lavender and Parvati ran around Trelawney's saucer as she turned her cup and tried to drink her tea backwards.
Dumbledore wore a top hat with a playing card stuck in it with the picture of a Chocolate Frog.
Snape swatted at the mice whenever he got the chance too.
Harry stood for a moment, gawking. He almost sat down, but that was before he heard Dumbledore yell "Switch!" and watched his three professors stand up, move down one seat and sit down. Having seen this, he turned sharply on his heal and decided to try a different path.
By the time he had found the place Dobby had actually ran off too, he had experienced a crazy Hermione lady, a catty Draco and Ron lounging around as a caterpillar. He would never get those images out of his head.
He came across a bunch of rose bushes where Peter Pettigrew was scurrying around crying about the roses not being the right colour. Harry, not being like Alice and thus not feeling like he had to help every poor bastard he came across, watched.
Almost satisfying.
Pettigrew was almost done his last bush when, lo-and-behold, Lord Voldemort himself marched up wearing a dress similar to the one the Queen of Hearts had worn in the Disney version. Voldemort looked less like a snake and more like a well aged Tom Riddle in his dream (which, seemed odd, since he should have been dreaming about one form or the other). He had no qualms with just shouting at Pettigrew for a while before smacking him hard and ordering for his beheading.
Voldemort turned to him next and smiled. Not an "I'm so goddamnned evil that you should be pissing yourself at the sight of me" or a "why, hello" kind of smile. Harry couldn't really place a name on that smile.
He wondered if he wanted to.
He should.
Cause Voldemort, dress and all, walked right up to him, snogged him then ordered his guards to drag him off for his own beheading.
That's when he woke up.
For a moment he lay in his bed. It was early morning and everyone else in the room would be getting up soon. He stared upwards blindly (since, of course, he wasn't wearing his glasses) before he started to laugh.
Laugh and laugh and laugh.
What would Freud say?