The night

Harry Dursley looked at the dingy little room in a seedy hotel on Knockturn Alley that he had rented. It wasn't great, but as long as he paid in advance, the hotel owner wouldn't ask questions about his age or identity. Then he raised his wand and began chanting the few protection spells he had learned during his far too short years at Hogwarts. He also tried to recite some of Voldemort's spells but gave up after the fifth attempt. Even though Voldemort had used his body to cast them, his spells were far too complex for him to simply reproduce by having observed the dark wizard cast them a dozen times. Especially since at the time, he was barely conscious.

Moreover, for the first time since his resurrection, the strangeness of having memories of moments he had not lived struck him with full force. Memories where he took pleasure in torturing strangers. Memories where he saw himself killing the parents of those with whom he had spent almost two years at Hogwarts. He almost fainted.

Harry felt weaker and weaker. Probably because he hadn't eaten all day and had overused wandless magic.

Fortunately, he had now recovered his good old wand made of holly and phoenix feather. It hadn't been easy. Ollivanders had initially categorically refused to sell a wand to a minor not accompanied by an adult. Especially to a minor who didn't seem to be of the legal minimum age. He had to go out and ask his double to lend him his invisibility cloak. To his great confusion, his double seemed to hesitate. But he finally handed him the precious relic, which he covered himself with and then waited until a customer entered.

Fortunately, he did not have to wait long. During this period, many parents were making their way down Diagon Alley to buy school supplies for their children. Still covered by the cloak, he slipped in behind the first customer who entered, and while Ollivander was distracted by the latter, he snuck to the far corner of the back room from where he remembered Ollivander had drawn the only wand in the shop that suited him. Even though he knew it was impossible, as soon as he held the wand in his hand, it seemed to him that his wand had recognized him. As he left, he took the risk of slipping 20 galleons onto the counter as payment for the wand.

Now that he had money, he no longer had any justification to continue stealing. Of course, it wasn't really his money, but in any case, he intended to bequeath his wand to his double when he left this world, so he wasn't really taking advantage of him.

He had nothing to do with the Dumbledore of this world. Thinking about him made him uncomfortable, but now that he was in relative safety, he could no longer postpone his questions. Even if he didn't have a precise plan, he had always implicitly counted on asking Dumbledore for help. However, after what he had learned, he could no longer trust him. It might well be that this version of Dumbledore was as bad as the Dursleys of this world.

It was worrying, but at the same time a relief. The Dumbledore of his world would never have stooped to stealing children under his care. And besides, he hadn't done so in his world. In his eyes, this proved that the inhabitants of this world had nothing to do with his loved ones. His parents had nothing in common with these despicable beings capable of being as cruel as Death Eaters. Despite all their flaws (and their well-understood hatred of magic), his parents sincerely loved him and would never have subjected him to that. In his early childhood, his mother had apparently mistreated him, but that was just because she had difficulty coping with all the upheavals that had occurred in her life (such as the murder of almost her entire family in less than a year). Once she had time to recover, she loved him and soon forgot everything. Harry Dursley repeated this to himself several times in his head to be completely convinced.

Then he told his double that the room was safe and that he could take off his invisibility cloak. Harry Dursley had ordered him to wear it as soon as he realized that the only place where he could hope to find a hotel that would agree to rent them a room without asking questions would inevitably be in Knockturn Alley. Harry Dursley suspected that wearing the cloak for an extended period on this hot summer day would be very uncomfortable, but his first and only visit to the alley had convinced him that it was a necessity. In fact, he would have liked to hide there himself. This sinister place reminded him of very bad memories. He still had trouble believing that all this was real, but it didn't make the situation any less disturbing.

He watched his double sit silently on the bed and test the springs with visible satisfaction. It wasn't luxurious, but Harry Dursley had no trouble imagining that it was much more comfortable than his former cupboard, and although grim, the place was clean. He transformed some decorative trinkets into a table and a chair. McGonagall certainly wouldn't have been pleased with the rather approximate result, but nevertheless, he emptied the food he had bought on Diagon Alley onto it.

His initial plan was to gorge himself on sweets and greasy junk food to recover from this exhausting day and take advantage of the absence of adults to him.Say to eat balanced. However, his double had chosen this moment to take his first initiative by slipping some slightly healthier products into his bag with authority. But he wasn't going to let this sad guy ruin his evening. Whether dark-Harry (that's how he ended up nicknaming the kid in his head, since this world seemed populated with evil doubles and a version of himself quite demonic enough to like vegetables) liked it or not, tonight he was going to force-feed him chocolate and he wouldn't stop until he saw a smile. He would have plenty of time to think of a plan or wonder if he would ever see his parents again, once he had enjoyed a good night's sleep. For one night, he wanted to pretend everything was fine. As if everything was like before. For the moment, he was alive and he intended to enjoy it.

oOoOoOoOo

This evening had not gone as Harry Dursley had planned. Despite all his attempts, Dark-Harry had remained tense and suspicious. The only moment he had shown a hint of emotion was when he almost set the room on fire while trying to warm up the popcorn he had bought with his wand.

But this unfortunate attempt had given an idea to Dark-Harry, who had asked him if he could try again in a more controlled manner. He had then been able to realize that he was extremely talented at cooking. In this small room devoid of any equipment, he had managed to cook for them (with what Dark-Harry had forced him to buy) a dish that Harry Dursley found worthy of a restaurant.

Hmm! How good it is. Said Harry Dursley for the umpteenth time (he said it with every bite)

Thank you. Dark–Harry replied timidly, awkwardly stirring his fork in the large portion that Harry Dursley had served him. Despite his alarming thinness, the child had eaten almost nothing. Harry Dursley took it upon himself to ensure that he ate properly:

Go ahead, eat.

I am not hungry.

Well, force yourself. You're as thin as a rail. I don't know what's bothering you, but you need to eat. And besides, you shouldn't waste something so delicious.

Little Dark–Harry resigned himself to swallowing everything on his plate with distressing slowness. Harry Dursley thought that, after all, he wasn't such a bad tutor. To lighten the mood, he set about telling him some wizard jokes he got from Zabini (thinking of his friend gave him a pang in his heart). He was convinced the evening was going well and that he would reach his goal without even having to dig into his chocolate frog reserve, until little Dark–Harry suddenly dropped his plate and rushed to the bathroom to violently vomit what he had just swallowed.

Harry Dursley rushed to his bedside, but upon seeing him arrive, Dark-Harry recoiled violently, causing some of the vomit to spill onto his clothes. Seeing this, Dark-Harry became even more terrified and retreated into a corner of the small bathroom.

Everything's fine, I'm not going to hurt you. Said Harry Dursley in a reassuring voice. Then he knelt on the ground to be at eye level and appear less threatening. To prove that it wasn't serious (and to make the smell disappear), he took out his magic wand and made the problem disappear from his clothes.

Is it better like this? Are you hurt anywhere? Do you have a fever? Harry asked, slowly bringing his hand to her forehead so as not to frighten her.

No. I just ate too much. He replied in a small voice.

Harry Dursley's face fell.

You could have told me you weren't hungry anymore. Why did you force yourself like that? Harry Dursley scolded, with all the bad faith of a teenager. No, but it's true, thought Harry. How could he guess he had a bird's appetite? Or that he would force himself to eat to the point of making himself sick. His double didn't respond and simply observed one of the bathroom walls, curling up more in the corner next to the toilet (Harry Dursley really wanted him to move away, as he doubted the hotel owner cleaned regularly).

He took a towel near the sink, let hot water run, and began to gently clean Dark-Harry's face. After a moment, he said to him:

Listen, I'm sorry. I didn't know. Next time, I'll let you eat as you want. As long as you're satisfied, that's what matters.

The boy let it happen then Harry Dursley ran a hand through his hair.

There you go, you're all clean.

Why are you doing this? asked the young Dark-Harry, staring at him intently.

Uh... well... I don't know. It would have been faster with magic, but...

No, why are you doing all this? Seeing the questioning look on Harry Dursley's face, he added:

Why are you taking care of me? You have your gold now, you can leave.

The gold? What are you talking about? When I saw you at the Dursleys, I just didn't think and took you with me, and now I'm trying to do my best. That's all. Harry Dursley replied, even more confused than before.

I don't want your pity. Go away and leave me alone. I don't need anyone.

We all need others. Even the powerful Albus Dumbledore. Honestly, do you really think I could survive on my own? If you hadn't been there, I would have starved to death. Or I would have set the place on fire trying to roast marshmallows. Hmm, roasted marshmallows. Added Harry Dursley, overacting his greed. Then he continued:

Wouldn't you like to get out of there and grill me a pack? If you're good, I might let you eat one or two. Well, if you want to eat some, you can. It's not an obligation, it's just if you feel like it. Harry Dursley attempted awkwardly to explain, not really knowing how to express himself so that the child wouldn't misunderstand him.

In response, Dark-Harry slowly crawled out of his hiding place on all fours. Harry Dursley forced himself to remain as still as possible, but with each movement, Dark-Harry cast him a small, fearful glance. Finally, once he was completely out and realized that Harry Dursley wasn't taking advantage of the situation to attack him, he felt reassured.

Harry Dursley got up in turn and ran a hand through his hair, and after forcing him to wash his hands, led him to the living room where, as promised, they gorged on toasted marshmallows. Well, mainly Harry Dursley, but Dark-Harry seemed to enjoy the evening and the sweets a lot (even though, as usual, he remained silent).

Then Harry Dursley declared that it was time to go to bed and began to put on his pajamas (he had taken care to buy wizard clothes in their sizes during the afternoon). Accustomed to life in the Hogwarts dormitories, Harry Dursley did not hesitate before starting to strip down to his underwear in front of his double, but the latter felt visibly uncomfortable and timidly asked:

Can I go change in the bathroom?

Yes, of course. Harry Dursley replied with an indifferent shrug.

Then when the child modestly closed the door to the other room behind him, Harry Dursley noted that it was the first time the kid had asked him for something.

Harry Dursley fell asleep in one of the two small beds in the room with a smile, thinking that the child was finally starting to trust him a little. Taking care of a child wasn't that complicated after all. You just needed to always have a few excuses and a box of marshmallows ready for the next time you messed up.

oOoOoOoOo

The woman refused to obey and began to plead with him to spare her son. His face filled with hatred and anger, he raised his wand and cast a Cruciatus Curse, which he maintained until she died of a heart attack or a brain aneurysm. This death was longer, but from now on, he was ready to take it to make all the Lily Potters of the world understand what it cost to oppose him. Then he advanced towards the 20-year-old young man who had refused to enter his service. The terror and pain he saw in his eyes bored him. Anyway, he had already wasted too much time with this unbearable matron. With a careless gesture, Harry Dursley cast the deadly spell, then he woke up with a start, gasping.

He was not in a city ravaged by flames, but in the hotel room on Diagon Alley. Harry Dursley touched his panicked body to confirm that he was still in control, then finally calmed down. This nightmare had been so realistic. He could still hear his victims softly murmuring their pleas in his head. And being covered in sweat did not help him forget the demonic furnace he had just crossed again. Silently, so as not to wake his double, he got up and went to wipe himself with one of the bathroom towels. It calmed him. But he could still hear the pleas. Dark-Harry, he shouted in thought when he realized that the pleading murmurs were real.

He ran more than he walked in the living room, wand in hand (he hadn't decided to part with his wand even to go to sleep). He then noticed that everything was calm. Except that Dark-Harry was writhing in pain in his sleep and softly begging an invisible assailant to spare him. A quick diagnostic spell (the only one he knew) told him that the child was fine. At least physically.

For a moment, Harry Dursley thought it would be very easy to go back to bed and pretend not to have noticed anything. After all, if they were at least somewhat alike, Dark-Harry wouldn't appreciate his intervention. Then he slowly approached his double's bed and gently shook his shoulder with his hand. Immediately, Dark Harry opened his eyes, moved away from him as much as the narrow width of his bed allowed, and looked at him with the panicked eyes of a rabbit caught in the headlights of a car.

Hush! Everything is fine. You had a nightmare. Harry Durlsey declared as gently as possible, raising his hands.

Sorry, I won't do it anymore...

Everything is fine. I'm not angry. And you didn't wake me up. I also have restless sleep. Said Harry Dursley, sitting on the bed and opening his arms for him to take refuge there.

Dark Harry relaxed but did not understand the explicit invitation being made to him, so Harry Dursley stepped forward and hugged him, whispering soothing words. For a few dozen seconds (where Harry Dursley felt very silly), Dark Harry remained extremely tense. Even though he did not push him away or try to escape as he had feared, he remained still and upright. Then he hesitantly returned the embrace, as if he did not know how to do it.

Feeling better?

Yes. He said softly.

Do you want to tell me about your nightmare?

He shook his head, giving him a frightened look.

Alright. I'm not going to force you. Harry Dursley immediately reassured him.

After a few minutes of staying glued to each other, Harry Dursley broke the embrace and got up with a yawn.

Come on, it's time to sleep now. Then, suddenly inspired by thoughts of his adoptive mother, he suggested:

Do you want to sleep with me?

He shook his head. Harry Dursley showed nothing, but he preferred it that way. Since he had been possessed, he valued his personal space. He motioned to his double to lie down again and when he complied, he tried to tuck him in as his adoptive mother had often done for him and lay down again himself. As he was about to fall asleep again, a question pierced the darkness:

What are you going to do with me?

An excellent question, he thought. But one to which he was not sure he had the answer himself. What was needed was to find him adoptive parents. And probably a good therapy (it wouldn't be a luxury for him either). But who could he trust enough in this corrupt world to entrust Dark-harry to them? Not to mention there was still the problem of Voldemort and the Horcruxes. In this moment of confusion, which separates the state of wakefulness and sleep, he replied in a semi-conscious state:

Whatever happens, you stay with me.

oOoOoOoOo

Author's note: Please know that I authorize parents to come strangle me in my sleep for having written that it is easy to raise a child.

In truth, we all know that children are the devil's spawn sent to earth to punish us for having fornicated so much (and to prevent us from doing it again). But we have to lie a little to the children about what they put us through if we want them to believe us when we say we love them. And then when they grow up, they'll fall into the trap in turn, and we can have a good laugh watching them struggle with their cute little monsters.