Chapter Text
Drip
Drip
Cold damp stone pressed against my cheek, and a muggy smell assaulted my senses. Sirens could be heard in the distance, the shrill sound penetrating my disoriented brain. When I tried to move, a sharp pain on my side flared to life. My breath caught as the pain radiated through my bones, a gasp escaping my trembling lips.
Drip
Drip
I slowly peeled my eyelids open, the effort making my head pound. I was facing a decrepit building, the paint blistering and the windows shattered. A flickering light hummed, the sound bouncing down a narrow alleyway.
Drip
Drip
My eyes followed the sound, rain droplets running down the small covering above my head.
Where am I?
I slipped my eyes shut, straining to remember something. Anything. But all I could grasp was the radiating pain on my side, every inhale making it impossible to think.
With shaky hands, I placed my palms flat on the surface I lay on and began to push myself up. A pained sound escaped my lips, as I continued to strain upward. Red filled my vision as I fought the urge to pass out.
I was able to get to a seated position, my knees digging into stone. Panting, I brought a hand to my side, wincing at the touch and feeling a sticky substance. I looked down to find my hand coated in red.
That can’t be good.
My gaze swept the area, scanning for any evidence of where I was. Aside from the building looming in front of me, the alley was narrow and stretched long; a tall chain-link fence ran along my left, with a brick wall pressing in behind me. The only light coming from the flickering street lamp a couple feet to my right. Out of the corner of my eye, a white newspaper fluttered against the gentle breeze under the covering.
Straightening, I attempted to stand but the pain became so intense, I flopped back to my knees. Gasping for air, I placed my palms on my knees as I hunched over.
What the bloody hell happened to me?
I scanned my surroundings once more and my eyes landed on the newspaper once again. It was just outside arms reach, the newspaper beginning to drift with the wind.
Placing my palms back on the ground, I planted my knees shoulder length apart and began to move painstakingly slow as to not disturb my injury further. As I crawled forward, I extended my arm to try and grasp at the newspaper.
Beads of sweat rolled off my brow, splashing into my eyes and I winced as I fumbled for the paper. The rough bumpy surface made contact with my hand and I smiled in triumph. Sitting back on my knees, I began to scan the paper.
The Dark Mark Chronicle — Commemorative Edition
May 2012
Today marks thirteen years since the death of Harry James Potter, the rebel figure whose fall during the Second Siege of Hogwarts secured the future of wizarding Britain. Potter’s defeat proved to be the final turning point in the war, paving the way for the rise of Supreme Lord Voldemort and the establishment of the new Ministry of Magic otherwise known as the Dominion of Magical Britain.
Under the steady rule of our Supreme Ruler, Lord Voldemort, and the governance of the Grand Regent of the Dominion, acting in concert with the Minister of Order, the Ministry was reshaped into a force of order, stability, and protection for the wizarding world. What was once chaos under the influence of traitors and false heroes has since been replaced with strength, unity, and prosperity.
Dominion officials remind citizens that the sacrifices made during the Second Siege of Hogwarts ensured the peace enjoyed today. Potter’s death was not meaningless. It was necessary. His end marked the beginning of a new era, one in which dissent was extinguished and true leadership prevailed.
As the wizarding world reflects on this anniversary, the Dominion urges all witches and wizards to honor the legacy of order and remain vigilant against the return of dangerous ideals once championed by the fallen rebel.
The paper began to shake, the lines blurring out of focus, words becoming jumbled.
D-death?
My breath hitched, my stomach churning as my hands shook. I slipped my eyes shut, straining to remember what happened.
But all I saw was black. My head spun and my body leaned to the side, the world shifting beneath me.
No.
This can’t be real.
A strangled cry ripped from my throat, the paper ripping down the middle as I shook with rage. My fists pounded against the stone. This time, I welcomed the pain. If only to be ripped away from this nightmare.
This is all a dream, I tell myself. But the aching in my bones, the sticky substance blooming beneath my torn shirt, told me that this was real.
My hands grabbed a handful of hair as I scanned my brain for information once more. There had to be some explanation for this. Flashes of red hair surfaced and I latched onto the memory. But the memory drifted from my mind, light and fleeting, like a feather lost to the wind.
Ron. Where was he? Was he alright?
The thought that he may be dead too briefly flashed in my mind, leaving me breathless.
By instinct, my hand lifted to my forehead, seeking the familiar scar that always accompanied my headaches. Instead of the rough, raised scar I had known all my life, my fingers found only smooth skin. I searched frantically for the jagged lightning bolt that had always been there, and found nothing.
My body stilled, goose flesh raising on my arms. I felt faint, the air around me stalling. I scanned the area once more, my frantic gaze snagging on a large puddle to my right beneath a streetlamp, and that’s when it hit me.
I can see.
My fingers twitched near the bridge of my nose, my fingers only finding skin. Not my usual frames that rested on my nose, not the usual thick circular lenses that I had worn since I was old enough to walk.
No. Nothing but clammy, unblemished skin.
My lungs burned as I dragged in shallow breaths, my shoulders and knees trembling as anxiety crept in and took hold. I shuffled closer to the massive puddle, ignoring the aching in my bones. Moments later, I was next to the puddle.
After one shaky breath, I leaned forward, barely catching myself as my hands slapped down on either side of the water and I looked in.
Fuck.
Through the rippling water, a face I did not recognize stared back at me. My messy black hair, jagged scar, and circular frames were gone.
In its place, was an unfamiliar one.
My hands trembled as I traced the unfamiliar features. Light brown hair, nearly blond, parted to the side with careful, deliberate precision. A gash in my lip caught my eyes, my fingers hovering over full lips, a sharp contrast to the thin lips I had always known. My jaw, instead of narrow and long, was now square and broad. Like that of a man instead of a boy.
My eyes drifted up, finding a well proportioned nose, straight along the bridge with a slightly upturned tip. A nose that could be seen in magazines, not on a thin, young boy whose nose had always been so sharp it could cut glass.
At last, on a shaky inhale, I glanced at the eyes in the rippled reflection. Bright emerald eyes stared back. Time seemed to slow as I stared at the all too familiar green eyes. Eyes that always seemed to remind others of my mother.
My eyes.
Panic rose in my chest, every detail foreign, but those eyes, my eyes, were unmistakingly mine.
This face, handsome and polished, bore none of the thin, sharp angles I had known all my life. This face was flawless, symmetrical, too perfect, and nothing like my own. Yet even as my fingers traced the unfamiliar face, I knew without a doubt: I, Harry Potter, was here.
I laid on the drenched cold floor, water splashing on my face from the covering, for what seemed like hours. Dazed, I stared at the now dark sky, my growling stomach becoming louder and louder with each second that passed by.
I couldn’t find myself to care.
None of this made sense. My head couldn’t wrap around my current situation. Questions began to flood in my mind. How did I get here? Why was I in another body? Where was my body? How did I even die?
My lips wobbled, my lashes trembling.
Anger surged through me, my fists curling tight at the thought. My entire adolescence had been shaped by a single purpose: to defeat Voldemort. The man who made me an orphan. Who condemned me to a childhood of neglect and pain. Who haunted my dreams and poisoned every scrap of happiness I tried to claim. The man who murdered my friends. Who slaughtered innocents. A man who deserved to die.
And yet in the end, none of it made any fucking difference! I died. All my past achievements, every good deed and promise to end the suffering, amounted to nothing in the end.
I failed. I let every single person I knew down.
No. I let the whole wizarding world of Britain down. And I couldn’t even remember my death.
A sudden uncontrollable laugh tore out of me, my back arching as I tried, and failed, to choke it back. My stomach burned with the effort, tears stinging my eyes as the sound kept spilling free. I must have looked mad, lying there in the filth of a narrow alley, injured in an unknown body, unable to stand, learning of my own death, and laughing.
But the thought to care left me long ago, replaced with an emptiness that felt like a neverending black hole.
“Great, he’s gone mad. Just our luck,” a deep raspy voice echoed down the narrow alleyway.
My laughter abruptly stopped, my body tensing and I slowly angled my head towards the voice. About ten feet away, a tall man stood, his long dark hair pulled back neatly, broad shoulders, and thin glasses perched delicately on the bridge of his nose. A long, black, high-collared robe billowed in the wind, its obsidian lining flashing with each movement, clasped tightly at his throat.
Upon the breast of the robe gleamed a silver sigil. A serpent coiled into a perfect circle, its head shaped into a crowned skull. Emerald gems burned in the skull’s hollow eyes, and a long black wand speared through its open jaws.
He raised his eyebrows as I continued to lay there.
A tense silence hung between us, broken only by the distant drip of water. After a long pause, he took a step forward, then another, his footsteps thundering in my ears. With a few more strides, he was by my side and bent down as he studied me.
“You’ve really upset him this time,” he said lazily, his posture relaxed, clearly wishing he were somewhere else.
I blinked up at him, still sprawled out on the floor. I didn’t dare move a muscle.
Does he know whose body this is?
My mind spiraled out of control as I thought about all the possibilities.
Does he know who I am?
Before I could spiral further, a hand landed on my side, sending jolts of pain up my body.
“Oi, you really got yourself into quite the predicament,” he whistled as he stuck a thumb into my side, making me gasp.
“First, you disappear with no trace. Then, we found out you moved money around and attempted to flee the Dominion.” He applied some pressure on my wound. The edges of my vision went dark as I opened my mouth in a soundless scream.
“And now, here you are on the brink of death.” He looked around, scoffing. “In the middle of a dark alleyway,” chuckling, he waved his gloved hand to motion someone I couldn’t see over.
“You better start coming up with a story now before we take you to him. I promise you—” he leaned down, his breath fanning against my cheek. “I promise you, he won’t care that you’re the minister. Or who your family is.” He leaned back on his heels, and smiled, the smile not reaching his eyes.
Did he just say Minister?
Rufus Scrimgeour, wasn’t it? I shook my head, trying to banish the uneasy feeling crawling up my spine. I had seen my current reflection earlier, I wasn’t Rufus Scrimgeour.
My mind backtracked to when I had read the newspaper. It had mentioned something about a minister. What was it again? I scanned my brain for any recollection of what I had read when the words flooded my mind.
Under the steady rule of our Supreme Ruler, Lord Voldemort, and the governance of the Grand Regent of the Dominion, acting in concert with the Minister of Order, the Ministry was reshaped into a force of order, stability, and protection for the wizarding world.
I fell still, every muscle in my body tensing. I was in the current minister’s body.
A snapping near my ears brought me back to reality and I glared up at the man next to me. He beamed at me, his harsh features twisting into what I assumed was a smirk.
“Ah, the oh-so-perfect Minister glaring at me? I think that’s a first,” he chuckled as he leaned back, placed his hands on his knees and slowly stood tall.
Deep rage fought to surface as I continued to glare up at the man. Somehow this man knew whose body I was inhabiting. And I knew it would only get worse if he discovered who I really was. I had to tread carefully.
Clenching my fists, I slowly released a shaky breath, trying to calm my racing heart. Any overreaction would raise suspicion. I had to stall, think, and plan my way out alive.
“Director, sir. We searched the area and found nothing notable. He appears to be alone. We found no evidence of how he arrived,” a voice interrupted.
A smaller framed man stepped into my line of sight, a similar black robe billowing behind him. His robes were nearly identical to the taller man’s, save for one detail. The collar. His collar sat low rather than rising sharply around his neck.
The taller man, director it seemed, nodded and motioned him away as if his presence annoyed him. The man bowed and then turned around without another word.
“Well, Minister, let’s get going. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” he said, glancing behind his back, and my eyes followed.
Behind him, a black SUV hummed to life, and on either side stood men in similar black robes, their hands crossed behind their backs.
A wave of nausea washed over me, my hand slapping against my mouth.
“Oh, please. Enough with the dramatics.” He grabbed under my armpit in an unrelenting grip, and yanked me up. A strangled cry tore from my lips, tears sliding down my cheeks, the gash on my side burning.
“Agh!” I groaned, my head swimming and vision blurring.
“It’s only going to get worse from here. Better brace yourself,” He laughed as if my pain were humorous. I glared at him, my eyes boring into his, memorizing the planes of his face. A silent promise shown in my eyes. His eyes widened a bit, shock showing on his face. But the shock left as quickly as it came, and he yanked me forward once more, his head turning to face forward.
I stumbled, my feet heavy and unfamiliar, and slowly the world dissolved into black.