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Harry Potter and the Distaff Side
A/N: I own none of this. I do not own Harry Potter or any rights to his image or personality. I do not own the moon or the stars. I do not own human genders, other than my own personal original factory equipment. Honest. Nope, not me. I most certainly do not own the rights to a billion dollar literary work.
A/N2: Be forewarned, this fic is not paying attention to HBP, or DH, so:
1. No Horocruxes,.
2. Dumbles is not dead. Of course it’s only 4th year when the story starts, who knows in the future
3. Snape is still a bastard, but not obviously a traitor.
4. There will not be an annotated potions book to piss Hermione off and make Harry more whiney than absolutely necessary.
5. There is not an oh so fashionable beaded bag that can evidently pack everything in the known universe except food.
6. Ron is not going to abandon the love of his life and his best friend, at least not soon.
7. Hermione is not going to mind rape her parents.
8. There is not going to be an endless camping trip.
9. There will be adult situations, meaning people will be experimenting with all the variations available when some people have tab A and other people have slot B.
Harry Potter and the Distaff Side
“B-blood of the enemy… forcibly taken… you will… resurrect your foe.”
Harry could do nothing to prevent it, he was tied too tightly… Squinting down, struggling hopelessly at the ropes binding him, he saw the shining silver dagger shaking in Wormtail’s remaining hand. He felt its point penetrate the crook of his right arm and blood seeping down the sleeve of his torn robes. Wormtail, still panting with pain, rumbled in his pocket for a glass vial and held it to Harry’s cut, so that a dribble of blood fell into it.
He staggered back to the cauldron with Harry’s blood. He poured it inside. The liquid within turned, instantly, a blinding white. Wormtail, his job done, dropped to his knees beside the cauldron, then slumped sideways and lay on the ground, cradling the bleeding stump of his arm, gasping and sobbing.
The cauldron was simmering, sending its diamond sparks in all directions, so blindingly bright that it turned all else to velvety blackness. Nothing happened…
Let it have drowned. Harry thought, let it have gone wrong…
And then, suddenly, the sparks emanating from the cauldron were extinguished. A surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron instead, obliterating everything in front of Harry, so that he couldn’t see Wormtail or Cedric or anything but vapor hanging in the air… Its gone wrong, he thought… it has drowned… please… please let it be dead…
But then, through the mist in front of him, he saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron.
“Robe me,” said the high, cold voice from behind the steam, and Wormtail, sobbing and
moaning, still cradling his mutilated arm, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, got to his feet, reached up, and pulled them one handed over his master’s head.
The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Harry… and Harry stared back into the face that had haunted his nightmares for three years. Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snakes with slits for nostrils…
Lord Voldemort had risen again.
Excerpt from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
Voldemort examined his new body, ignoring Harry, ignoring Wormtail, ignoring Cedric’s body. Flexing his fingers, then his hands and arms, he rotated his neck, then flexed his entire body, stretching every extremity.
“Is magic not wonderful Mr. Potter?”
“Go to hell.”
Harry’s world dissolved into a universe of pain. Voldemort released the curse.
“Isn’t the Headmaster stressing being polite any longer Mr. Potter? In my day displaying an uncivil tongue to ones senior would have resulted in a far more extreme punishment.”
“Oh golly gosh, what ever will you do to me?” Harry panted out between breaths “Kill me twice?”
“Kill you? Harry, I’m not going to kill you.”
“Honestly Harry, killing you was never my intention, not even that night back in ’81. You see Harry, I know the prophecy.”
Harry stared at him blankly.
Voldemort sighed. “Typical. Dumbledore stays true to form to the end. There is a prophecy that concerns the two of us Harry, it’s sad that Dumbledore hasn’t shared it with you.”
“So, what is it?” Harry asked through clinched teeth.
“So, you do want to know? All right Harry.” A smile creased his ghastly face “The one with the power to vanquish the - Dark Lord approaches” The ‘Dark Lord’ that would be me “born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…” That would be you ”and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal,” The current theory is this lovely scar is how I marked you “ but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…” Obviously, I don’t know what this power of yours might be “and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…” now, that’s the important part “ the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…”
“Did you understand the important part Harry?”
“No, not really.”
“Either must die at the hand of the other” Again Voldemort smiled. “If I don’t kill you, and you don’t kill me, neither of us can die.”
“So, what happens now?” Harry was trying to digest what he had just been told. “Do you recruit me as your apprentice?”
The snake man laughed, a horrible sound. “No Harry, because I know that if I was in your position I would never trust you and would rebel against you at my first opportunity. No Harry, I’m going to have to send you away, to a place you cannot return from to interfere with my plans.”
“Where are you sending me?”
“Actually Harry, I don’t really know. What this charm is supposed to do is open a rift between parallel realities, and you will be transferred to one, where you cannot die, because I won’t be there to kill you, and I will stay here, where you will not be to kill me. Excuse me for a moment.”
Voldemort reached down grasping the arm of Wormtail, who was weak from lack of blood, and touched his wand to the Darkmark on the rat animagus’s arm. He then cast the killing curse on the hapless man.
“Sorry Harry, I couldn’t leave a witness with a story of how I let you live, could I?” With a ripple of near synchronous cracks the surviving Death Eaters arrived.
“Welcome My Death Eaters. I will be with you in a moment, first I must deal with the boy who lived.”
“Fuck you Tom, you half blood bastard!”
Yet again, Harry’s world dissolved into a universe of pain. This universe was infinitely larger than the first had been, as Voldemort held the curse much longer. After a full minute he stopped.
“You really need to learn to be more respectful Harry.” Voldemort smiled, He placed Harry’s wand into the pocket of his Triwizard uniform, and patted Harry’s chest. “We wouldn’t want you to be unarmed would I Harry? After all if something on the other side manages to kill you, where would my insurance be?” Voldemort began to move his wand in an extremely complicated pattern, while mouthing a complex charm chain. Harry felt as if he was being crushed as the charm took effect, he could not breathe, his vision grayed out, and he was gone.
He was back. He fell to the ground as if he had fallen from quite a height. He impacted a grave stone hard enough to have it break Harry hurt all over his body, his head was pounding, he had lost his glasses in the fall, and the world was a blurry mess. He lay where he had fallen taking inventory of the parts of his body that did not hurt, while feeling around for his glasses. He could not find them anywhere. How the hell was he going to get out of here?
“Do nothing!” He heard Voldemort shriek. Great, Voldie was still here, why was he telling his Death Eaters not to do anything? Peering around the broken tombstone, he could barely see a crowd of people in Death Eater Robes encircling Voldemort and… someone. Harry squinted, Voldemort was dueling someone? Who? He could just make out Cedric’s body beyond the circle of Death Eaters and beyond him the Cup. Wait, Cedric moved. Cedric was alive, all he had to do was work his way around to Cedric, accio the cup and pray that it would return them to school. Ok, that is the plan, now for the execution.
Then a wonderful sound filled the air… phoenix song! The sound of hope and wonder. Harry searched for the Phoenix that was singing, he could find no sign of a magical firebird, the song was coming from the duel taking place in front of him, where the a solid beam of light connected the wands of Voldemort and the other. That meant that the stranger was on the side of the light, as nothing as beautiful as a phoenix song could come from as vile a being as Voldemort.
He watched for a moment as large beads of light were sliding up and down the thread connecting the wands. The plan was now utter crap. He could not leave who ever was dueling Voldemort, even if he won the duel, he would be cut down by the surrounding Death Eaters. Ok, new plan. Distract Voldemort and his Death Eaters, grab who ever that is, and Cedric, accio the cup, get the hell out of here. Hopefully, Voldemort’s desire to not kill him would keep the Death Eaters off balance. Ok, good plan. Suicidal, but good. Now, how to do it.
Gathering his magic, Harry levitated the heavy broken piece of the headstone. He then concentrated on the strongest banishing charm he could manage. Professor Flitwick told them in class that intent was the most important part of charms work. That was good; he could not see well enough to aim. He poured all of his magic into banishing the chunk of headstone with all of his intent on driving it into Voldemort’s back.
Harry ran following the stone on its flight. As the stone passed through the line of death eaters, it knocked into a dark clad figure on either side, causing them to fall into their compatriots at their side forming somewhat of a domino effect as Harry barreled through behind the stone. The stone hit Voldemort hard, Harry was sure he heard bones snap. For good measure as Harry cast ‘flagrate’ on Voldemort’s robes as he ran past. He carried on to who ever it was who had been dueling Voldemort and bending low, scooped him up over his shoulder and he pelted on to Cedric, who was stirring more by the moment.
“Stun them!” he heard Voldemort scream.
Reaching Cedric as spells started whizzing by his head; Harry dumped whomever he was carrying on top of the Hufflepuff and covered their bodies with his own.
“Accio Cup!” Harry yelled, pointing his wand at the Triwizard Trophy. It flew through the air arcing toward him. Harry caught it by the handle – and he felt the jerk behind his navel that meant the Portkey had worked - it was speeding him away in a whirl of wind and color, Cedric and the unknown duelist along with him… They were going somewhere.
Harry felt himself slam flat into the ground; face first into grass; the smell of grass, smoke, and sweat filled his nostrils. At least he had not landed on a tombstone (again). One of the others landed on top of him, probably the duelist, too light to be Cedric. He tried not to move. His breath knocked out by the sudden impact. His head was swimming; he felt as if he was going to vomit, then that smell invaded his mind. Either he had thrown up, or one of the others had. He released his hold on the cup and the others and tried to rise, his strength failed him, and he remained laying flat on the ground, holding on while the world spun madly beneath him.
There were voices everywhere, footsteps, screams… Someone was calling “Harry! Harry!” over and over.
He tried to rise again, and again failed. He decided to answer. “I’m here!”
Someone (a girl?) to his left echoed, “I’m here!”
A pair of hands seized him roughly and turned him over.
“Who the hell are you?”
Harry stared up at the fuzzy blob in front of him, try as he might he could not make out who this was, but the man’s voice was familiar.
“Harry Potter.” Harry answered.
“I’m here!” the girl’s voice to his left spoke again. “I don’t know who he is, but he saved us, Cecelia and me both. He saved us both Professor McGonagall!”
Looking around for a blob that looked like his transfiguration Professor Harry called out. “Professor McGonagall! Cedric’s hurt bad! Keep everyone away from the cup, it’s a portkey! Someone keep an eye on Professor Moody, he was supposed to be the last one to handle the cup!”
Someone was in front of him again, doing odd movements. Harry assumed a diagnostic was being done.
“Well Paul?” asked a woman’s voice he didn’t recognize.
“Heavy cruciatus exposure to all three of them. Harri and this one are the worst. Diggory was stunned several times on top of the crucios.”
“I’m fine, see to Cedric!”
“There’s no Cedric here young man” the man who answered to Paul said.
“You just said he was stunned several times!”
“Every thing is going to be all right young man.” The woman who had asked for the diagnosis said. “Could you tell your name, and explain why you are wearing Gryffindor colors? Are you a fan?”
“I’m Harry Potter; I’m a Triwizard Tournament Champion. I’m in Gryffindor house.”
There was a sudden hush, and then the woman spoke again. “Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire Harry?”
“Sweet Merlin no! Someone else put my name in; it must have been a plot, because the cup took Cedric and me to a graveyard where Voldemort was waiting for us. I thought hey killed Cedric, thank god he was only stunned.” Harry was crashing from his adrenalin rush.
“Mental, that one is.” Said a red haired blob to his right.
Harry looked at that blob squinting. “Ginny?”
“I don’t think he can see very well.” Another voice said. Harry judged it to belong to a boy roughly his age. “Harri, could I borrow your glasses?”
“I don’t have my glasses, I lost them in the graveyard”
To his left he heard a murmured duplication charm; a pair of glasses were placed in his hand. “Try these” the boy said.
The style of frames was different, but the prescription was right, the world came back into focus. He looked around and saw a crowd of people he did not know. The red head he thought might have been Ginny was taller with a more angular face she looked like… Ron?
“You saved my life, and the life of my friend.” The girl to his left said, Harry turned finally seeing her. He found himself looking into his own green eyes. She had black untamed hair, and the scar… He was looking at a feminized version of his own face. Harry’s mouth fell open. “My name is Harriett Potter, my friends call me Harri. Who are you really?”
This was just too much. The maze, two portkey trips, the crucios, being stunned, Wormtail taking his blood (the wound still seeped), whatever Voldemort had done to him, and now this? Harry did what any sensible man would do in a similar situation when the entire universe seemed intent on crapping on his head. He passed out.