Host family

He was in a large white room filled with emptiness, resembling a cathedral that would have been a grand place if the walls had not been overrun with black brambles spreading like cracks. Clearly, he had never been here before, yet the place seemed familiar. He vaguely wondered how he had ended up here, but this thought was pushed aside by the sudden feeling that something was wrong. He turned around and Dark-Harry found himself face to face with a young man in his thirties with pale skin and aristocratic features. He would have been extremely handsome if his eyes hadn't been bloodshot.

Under normal circumstances, Dark-Harry would have fled from the man or, failing that, would have done everything to make sure he didn't notice him, because he knew there was nothing else to expect from adults but awkward questions, nasty looks, contradictory orders, or reprimands for some unimportant detail that wasn't his doing, like the dirt on his oversized and hole-filled clothes. But here, he felt strangely confident. He felt completely in control of the place and something was screaming at him that the man shouldn't have been there and that he had to chase him away.

Who are you?

But the man ignored him, too busy gently stroking something in the crook of his arms.

Here is something I did not expect to find in this place. I don't know yet if I'm angry that you stole it from me or grateful that you protected it. If you value your life, let me enjoy this reunion while I decide between these two options.

Normally, his threats would have made him back down, but for some curious reason, he was convinced that the man could do nothing to him, so he stepped forward to try to see what he was holding. But he was too small. As soon as he had this thought, he flew away. Once he recovered from his surprise, he looked at the thing and his eyes burned with pain. Nestled in the man's arms was an infant.Monstrous. It was the ugliest baby he had ever seen. Its skin was covered with whitish scales, its skeletal body seemed devoid of any roundness, and its nose was reduced to two slits that completed its reptilian appearance. Harry screamed with a terror he had never felt before. Greater even than what he had felt on his first night in the cupboard, convinced that every moving shadow hid a monster that would soon devour him. The creature then seemed to notice him and locked its huge red eyes onto his. The moment their eyes met, his scar exploded with pain, and he woke up with a start, covered in sweat and his mouth filled with the taste of blood. By a reflex harshly acquired at the Dursleys, he had bitten his tongue rather than scream from this nightmare.

He looked around completely lost. He was in a vast, totally unknown space far from his closet. His first instinct was to call his double for help, but he then realized that he didn't even know his name.

During the two days they had spent together, he had catered to his every whim without him even asking. Sometimes even to some he didn't know he desired (or refused to admit). As if he could read his thoughts. Given the vast powers his lookalike possessed, it was not an eventuality to be excluded, but for some reason that eluded him, he didn't think his lookalike would have done that to him.

He then felt an enormous sadness as he realized that once again, he would have to face his anxieties alone. As quietly as possible (a precaution unnecessary given the snores coming from Ron), he got out of the bed that Ron's father had transformed with a wave of his magic wand from one of the hideous orange posters of the Chudley Cannons that adorned the walls of the small room he now had to share with the redhead. The latter did not seem thrilled to have to share his room with him. And although the place was certainly an improvement over his cupboard, neither was he.

Not because he had hated the redhead at first sight, nor even because he feared the moment when, away from the adults' gaze, Ron would go after him. The Dursleys had taught him only four things: cooking, mowing the lawn, cleaning any stain or dirt in a house, and that people like him had nothing else to expect but violence from the outside world. Outside of family members, life was a vast competition for power where the weak like him could only resign themselves to accept their fate, praying for a miracle to overturn the balance of power. He was therefore convinced that sooner or later Ron would go after him to take revenge for invading his personal space, to pass his chores onto him, or simply to let off steam (the latter was the main reason why his bullies, led by Dudley, targeted him).

No, the real reason is that he would have wanted to be with his lookalike. Dark-Harry didn't understand why he was reacting like that with him. He knew he shouldn't rely on anyone (especially someone he had known for such a short time). He knew he would probably end up heartbroken once again. But he couldn't help it. Maybe he had cast a spell on him to manipulate him. If that was the case, he had done a damn good job of bewitching him, because this perfectly logical conclusion seemed unbelievable to him.

Continuing to think about what had happened after his double had fainted, he moved closer to the window and pressed his scar against the cold glass to try to soothe the pain. He was sure his double would have solved the problem with his scar with a simple spell. Then he would have held him in his arms to console him from his nightmare and stayed by his side until he fell asleep again.

But it was useless to regret what would never happen. Despite his pleas (and those of the headmaster of Hogwarts), the Weasleys had refused to let him follow his double when he was handed over to that Dumbledore, saying it was for his own good because they couldn't heal him (what a joke, are they wizards or not). He was now a prisoner of this strange family, while his double was in the hands of that Dumbledore and undergoing, he didn't know what. He would therefore have to face this strange pain alone, hoping it would go away on its own and that it wasn't serious. The few drops of blood that continued to sporadically escape from his scar worried him, but he was used to living in fear and, no matter the difficulties, he was determined to survive to one day find a way to take revenge on all those who had harmed him.

To calm himself, he looked at the English countryside through the magically enchanted window panes that would not open. The first thing he did as soon as the Weasleys had their backs turned was to check potential exits and hiding places and then realized that contrary to what he claimed, he was indeed a prisoner.

A well-treated prisoner, that said. He had to admit that the Weasleys had done everything to make him comfortable. However, he didn't know how to respond to their attentions, let alone Molly Weasley's attempts to mother him. Should he let it happen to avoid displeasing her, or push her away to avoid inciting the jealousy of the other Weasley children? The latter had not seemed aggressive so far, but he knew it wouldn't last. Now that he was alone in this unknown place, he had to be particularly cautious and had therefore applied all his training to appear invisible, remaining as silent as possible, with his eyes lowered, answering the avalanche of questions he had been subjected to as succinctly and neutrally as possible.

Unfortunately, that had not been enough and seemed to have instead increased their curiosity about him. And it did not get better when two other of Ron's older brothers, Charlie and Percy, returned to the Burrow (apparently he had gone to friends named the Tonks) and their younger brothers rushed to explain the events to them with much excitement (and lies from the twins).

He had thought he would finally be left in peace when the parents had ordered them to leave him alone and come to the table, but even though he pretended to lose interest in him, the meal went by in constant noise and commotion that made him jump every 5 minutes.

In short, he had been uncomfortable and on edge all evening, and the next day didn't promise to be any better. The only thing that gave him hope was that his double would probably be cured and would do everything to come and free him. At least that's what he hoped. Maybe he would think he was safer at the Weasleys'. Maybe he would believe he had abandoned him by not being at his bedside. Or maybe he would simply be fed up with him.and would decide to abandon it. No, he had been very clear about that and the man, or rather the teenager, seemed sincere.

Out of necessity, Harry had developed at a very young age the ability to read other people's emotions. He didn't always know how, but he almost always knew when Dudley was lying to lure him into a trap or if Vernon was angry when he came home from work. It didn't always keep him from getting hit, but this ability had saved him many times. Most of the time, this ability was ineffective on his double. During their first meeting, when he had looked into his eyes to try to know what he was going to do to him, he had only seen an impassable barrier of flame. But at certain moments (usually when they were alone), his defenses would lower, and Dark-Harry felt that he wasn't lying to him.

He pulled his head away from the window and looked at the time on a clock. It was almost 6 o'clock in the morning, and the sun was about to rise. His scar no longer hurt, but he didn't feel like going back to bed. He decided to quietly leave his room and explore the big house. The place was fascinating. Every corner, every object seemed to literally overflow with magic. Whether it was the sounds of the ghoul in the attic he sometimes heard, the clock that constantly indicated the position or health status of family members, the layout of the rooms defying the laws of physics, the moving photos, the cupboards larger on the inside than the outside, the shelves filled with potion vials with strange names, everything screamed that he had entered another world where the absurd and the bizarre were the norm. A wonderful world to which the Dursleys would never have access and from which he would let no one deprive him (not even Dumbledore).

But if he were honest with himself, what fascinated him most were the many traces of an idyllic family life as boasted by the silly TV shows in front of which the Dursleys dulled themselves all day, and whose sound reached him through the walls of his cupboard. Indeed, each room was filled with photos of the children and their smiling parents, drawings, toys abandoned here and there, marks of their growth. In short, a whole mess that betrayed a life Harry could never have truly existed in from the dusty cupboard of the Dursleys' sanitized home. Once, he had dreamed of being part of a family like this. But he knew it was impossible and resigned himself.

In order to clear his mind and win the good favor of his hosts, he decided to prepare breakfast. He was all the more motivated because he was convinced that once again, they would let him eat with them. Even though he felt uncomfortable in their presence, he appreciated that they made the effort to admit him to their table, even though he was just an intruder and they could very well have, like the Dursleys, asked him to quickly eat some leftovers in a corner (not to mention that he had quickly become addicted to the concept of three meals a day).

After two hours, a delicious smell was wafting from the kitchen.

What are you doing? Get down right away, it's dangerous. Ordered the panicked voice of Molly Weasley behind him. His heart was racing at 100 miles an hour and he hurriedly got down from the chair he had climbed on to reach the stove. He lowered his eyes and mumbled:

I was making pancakes.

Without wasting a minute, Molly Weasley extinguished the fire under the pan with a wave of her magic wand.

Are you out of your mind! You could have started a fire. Or hurt yourself. Molly Weasley reprimanded him. Even though she was still in slippers and a dressing gown, she exuded an impression of undeniable authority.

A long time ago, when Aunt Petunia accused him without reason of being stupid, clumsy, and a danger to his family, Dark-Harry protested. Even today, he would have wanted to say that he had been preparing breakfast like this every day for years and that there was no risk. But he knew that it would only make things worse, so he just waited for the blow, gritting his teeth.

Oh, I'm warning you, don't hope to soften me up. I've had 7 children who tried before you. What you did is serious. Didn't your aunt teach you not to play with fire?

Dark-Harry was stunned by this request, but showed nothing and simply shook his head silently. Molly, on the other hand, did not hide her surprise. Her first instinct would have been to call him a liar, but his silence and the obsessive way he stared at the floor made her uncomfortable. No matter what she said, she had never really resisted the puppy-dog eyes of her children (except for the twins, who had really overused it).

Well, she should have. Imagine if you had made a wrong move. You would have fallen and the pan would have spilled on you.

Sorry ma'am. I'll be more careful not to damage anything next time. Replied Harry, who thought the problem was that she was worried about her furniture.

Next time? What next time? Listen to me carefully, you don't touch anything in this kitchen without my permission and the supervision of an adult or Percy.

Yes ma'am. He replied before continuing to sink into his silence.

It's not that bad and call me Molly, okay. Just promise me not to do it again.

Yes, madame Molly.

She smiled upon hearing his response, but did not comment, instead, she examined her work.

Merlin, but you cooked for a regiment.

He had simply prepared for each of the Weasleys the meal that Vernon and Dudley devoured every Sunday morning, but remained stoic, wondering when she would finally decide to punish him so he could move on.

It looks delicious, but you shouldn't have. You are our guest. By the way, how come you're not sleeping? Is it Ron's snoring that's bothering you?

No, no. Harry replied hastily for fear of making things worse with Ron.

Are you sure there is no problem with Ron? We can put you elsewhere if you want, Molly asked suspiciously.

No, I just didn't feel like sleeping. I'm used to getting up early and preparing breakfast for my cousins.

Really!? That's very kind, my darling. But next time, wait until I'm up to do anything. And if you're hungry, you can have a cookie or a fruit from the kitchen cupboard. Or a glass of milk. But don't touch the stove again, okay?

Okay, Madame... Molly.

oOoOoOoOo

After this awkward response, Molly sent him to play in the living room while she got to work. Or rather, she critically inspected the work of the strange boy. In a way, she found it pleasant not to have to cook that day. In fact, the kid had done enough for her to skip making breakfast and snacks for two days. Moreover, she discovered that he had taken the opportunity to do the dishes and clean part of the kitchen, so for the first time in years, she found herself idle.

This observation, far from relieving her, only worried her more. What kind of child barely 10 years old got up in the middle of the night to clean?

Of course, even though she supported her husband's decision to temporarily keep the child away from Dumbledore, she did not believe the insinuations of that mysterious wizard who had tried to impersonate Harry Potter. Instead, she wondered what the mysterious dark wizard had subjected him to during the more than 24 hours he had been at his mercy.

She shivered just thinking about that aura so close to Voldemort's that she had felt when he had lost control of his magic. Whatever he said or did, he could only be a threat. Being against Voldemort didn't mean he was on their side.

There remained the undeniable fact that he had saved her life in Diagon Alley. Hers and two of her children's. So she owed him a debt. But she would make sure to repay it without her children being in his presence again.

She decided to take advantage of this unexpected free time to get closer to the child. To her great surprise, she found him in the living room reading a school textbook far too advanced for his age. Or rather, with his nose glued to the page trying to decipher it. She smiled, thinking he was cute like that and that he reminded her of Percy. She knew she shouldn't have favorites, but she couldn't help having a preference for her third child, so curious, so calm, so studious (especially compared to the twins).

She approached him from behind to see over his shoulder which passage he was reading, but he immediately tensed up and hastily closed the book before she could see anything, as if he had done something wrong. Despite this bad start, she tried to engage in conversation, ignoring her instinct forged by years of taking care of the twins, which urged her to examine the book thoroughly to understand what mischief he was planning. However, he persisted in responding with tense smiles and monosyllabic phrases, which eventually made her feel terribly uncomfortable. So it was with some relief that she welcomed Ginny, who had just woken up to offer her a special moment between girls before the storm that would follow the boys' awakening.

The rest of the day passed without notable incident. The meal was just as lively as the day before, and although her children were initially disappointed not to find their usual breakfast, they covered Harry with praise after the first bites. Even her husband, who had planned to just gulp down a coffee before heading to the Ministry (then to Hogwarts to ensure that Dumbledore had made sure there were no issues with the Dursleys before sending Harry back and attending a first meeting of the resurrected Order about Voldemort's return), stopped for a few minutes to devour some pancakes. Molly would have been offended if she hadn't been busy herself devouring more than her share of pancakes.

Then, as usual during the morning, her children scattered around the house to do their chores or play various games in small groups. Ron and Ginny on one side, the twins on the other, and Percy helping her keep an eye on everything. Everyone except Harry, who stayed alone in a corner to resume his reading attempt, Molly noticed with a delay. This time, she made sure to approach him noisily so as not to surprise him and asked him:

Why don't you go have fun outside with the others? I'm sure Ron would love to have a companion his age to play with him.

He has Ginny.

That's what I keep telling him, but don't repeat it to him. She said, before confiding to him with a conspiratorial air:

He is right to say that a little sister is not the same. I am sure you will get along very well. Besides, together, there would be enough of you to go play Quidditch. He suggested, hoping that the temptation would be stronger than the crippling shyness he had shown since his arrival at their place.

Quidditch, it's that sport where you fly on brooms shown on the posters in Ron's room? Harry asked, paling at the idea of leaving the ground again with just a piece of wood to keep him from falling.

Realizing that she would not achieve her goals in this way, she changed her approach:

Do you want me to help you read?

No, it's fine ma'am.

Molly, come on.

Madame Molly, he hastened to correct with a little fear.

It's fine, I'm not angry. Just drop the 'madam'. I'm too young for that. And I accept no objections. As long as none of my sons have children, I can still live in denial. After all, there must be some advantages to having sons who are all adventurers more attracted to the other side of the world than to the charms of family life.

As usual, the child seemed not to react to his joke and merely lowered his eyes, then resumed his reading uneasily.

Why are you leaning so much over your books?

I have poor eyesight.

How come? Your glasses are no longer suitable. When was the last time you saw an eye doctor?

Only an awkward silence answered him.

Or the equivalent among Muggles.

I don't know what it is. He replied with obvious discomfort.

The doctor... the doctor who examined your eyes.

I have never seen any.

Of course, yes. Otherwise, how would you have gotten your glasses? Don't you remember a man or a woman in a white coat who made you read letters that got smaller and smaller? Moly said with a desperate look.

There was the school nurse 4 years ago. After that, Aunt Petunia was summoned by my teacher and in the evening she gave me her glasses, telling me to take care of them or I would be punished.

This response shocked Molly. It must have shown, because the child looked at her again with a worried expression.

It's fine, everything is okay. Go play outside or go help the twins de-gnome the garden. She asked him without thinking about the fact that it was a punishment for their little escapade yesterday that almost turned tragic. However, thisThis time, he did not need to be asked. Before he left, she noticed for the first time that his glasses were slightly damaged.

Repair! She said mechanically.

Incredulous, he stopped to examine his glasses.

It's better this way.

Thank you Ma... Molly. He replied with a smile before leaving as if the devil were on his heels.

She spent the rest of the morning going about her activities, trying to convince herself that it might be normal for Muggles. Or that the child simply no longer remembered regularly visiting the Muggle equivalent of an Occlumency. Her aunt's invective, however, did not arouse any suspicion in her, as she was so used to having to assert authority to prevent her army of unruly lions from destroying the house. Even though she hadn't been at school at the same time as James Potter, during her brief time in the Order, she had heard plenty about his school days, and it wouldn't have surprised her if his son was a real daredevil. Even if this interpretation didn't quite fit with the way the child had behaved since his arrival.

Then noon arrived and to her great regret Arthur did not even come back for lunch even though it was Sunday. She prayed that it was not a bad sign, that Voldemort had not launched another attack and that her husband had not found himself in the middle. Her children, still unaware of the danger despite their misadventure yesterday, were eating as noisily as usual (although with less appetite after the hearty breakfast Harry had prepared for them). This cheerful atmosphere helped Molly to get rid of her worries.

Moreover, she noticed that even though he interacted little with others and Ron gave him dark looks, little Harry seemed to have grown closer to the twins. This reassured Molly in her opinion that the child was just shaken (or even traumatized) by the events he had experienced at the hands of that dark wizard (and of which he still had no idea of the nature). It couldn't be anything else. Dumbledore would never have let anything else happen. Right?

However, once he left the table instead of following the twins into who knows what mischief or trying to make up with Ron (who had probably been the victim of one of the twins' pranks in which Harry must have participated), he stayed close to her as if to talk to her. She expected the moment, as inevitable as it was dreaded (which she had nevertheless momentarily forgotten), when he would ask her where her adoptive parents were and when he could see them again. So it was with surprise that she welcomed his real question:

Could I go see the other Harry? Is he okay?

oOoOoOoOo

Molly Weasley did not know how she had been convinced to leave the shelter of the Burrow's powerful protections. The stream was not far, of course, but at that spot the protections were much weaker. She reassured herself by saying that Voldemort had no way of knowing that his Nemesis was here and no other reason to target this remote corner of the English countryside. The magical community living within the village was not very large and was spread over a vast area. In any case, according to the conversation he had urgently had with Dumbledore yesterday, Voldemort would probably remain discreet in the coming days in order to regain strength.

And then it was probably one of the last opportunities he would have to have fun before the war resumed. And then his children were right to complain that even with the cooling spells, it was 'hot as hell' at the Burrow. Nevertheless, she insisted on accompanying them and stood on alert, ready to cast an offensive spell at a moment's notice, her wand firmly held against her.

It was in a dreadful din that would have made the cruelest of Death Eaters flee that they walked in a group toward the stream near the burrow where they used to swim, with all sorts of beach items under their arms. After barely 10 minutes, they arrived at the small clearing bordered by a stream with a promontory that served as a diving board. The place was beautiful, the water refreshing, and the sun shone brightly. Needless to say, her fears lasted only as long as it took her to slather them with sunscreen before jumping into the water. All except one.

Once again, Harry stood apart, still fully dressed, watching enviously as the others played in the shallow river.

Come on, it's good. Ginny called out to her.

Unless you're scared. Ron added to provoke him.

I am not afraid. Leave me alone or...

But before he could finish his threat, someone pushed him from behind and he swallowed water. He started moving frantically in all directions to find air, but only managed to swallow more of the disgusting water. Then something lifted him from the ground and he began to avoid it. The sensation was similar to what he had felt during his moments of terror when his double had dragged him into his aerial escape. Thus, he thought once again he had come back to save him, but quickly realized it was only Molly Weasley who had used her magic to bring him back to the shore.

As soon as he was safe, she started yelling at Fred (unless it was George) who was apparently the one who had pushed him. Ultimately, it might not have been a good idea to try to get closer to the twins to harm Ron, when he realized that their gratitude towards his double extended to himself. In retrospect, he knew he should have made peace with Ron (who only wanted that), but he couldn't stand the way he had monopolized the good graces of his double. He had even convinced him to use his wand (while he himself had never had that honor). The worst part was that he didn't seem aware of his luck and kept complaining about his "horrible family."

Why didn't you tell us you couldn't swim? The other twin, who had only avoided the wrath of the Weasley clan matriarch by a lucky coin toss, reproached him.

He barely refrains from responding: "Because I didn't think of it, idiot" or "if you weren't two self-important fools, I wouldn't have needed to tell you," instead, he mumbled a pitiful:

I don't know.

Then he began shivering with cold in silence despite the August heat. His clothes were soaked and the stream water seemed icy to him.

Finally, Molly's screams ceased and she walked towards him. The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to appreciate her. She resembled the mother he would have dreamed of having in another life. However, everything in him screamed to remain cautious. Even though he had to admit that the Weasley children were nothing like Dudley and he increasingly believed that Ron wouldn't attack him without reason, sooner or later his presence would create tensions and jealousies (it hadalready started). And of course, she would side with her children against him.

My darling, I'm sorry for those two idiots, take off your clothes, I'll wash them. I have some spare ones that should fit you roughly and a towel in my bag.

No thank you mad... Molly. I'm dry. Despite her multiple requests, Harry couldn't get used to being so familiar with an adult, and his old reflexes took over when he was nervous. And even though he didn't show it, her request had triggered a hint of panic in him.

Let's see. No need to act tough. You're going to catch a cold if this keeps up.

No, it's fine, I assure you. He assures in a tone he wanted to be neutral while trying to stop himself from trembling.

That's enough. I'm warning you, when it comes to health, I have no patience.

No, it's fine, I'm going to go back. He said as he got up and started heading towards the burrow.

But before he could move away, she cast a spell and he felt his t-shirt disappear, revealing to everyone's eyes his scar-covered back and his alarmingly thin torso, usually hidden by clothes far too big for him. The sounds of play immediately ceased, and for the first time since the twins were born, silence fell in the Weasley family. Everyone looked at him, their eyes filled with pity.

Without waiting, he started running towards the Burrow, tears welling up in his eyes. He had never let anyone see his scars. How dare that sow humiliate him like that?

oOoOoOoOo

He got up and realized to his great surprise that he was back in that small hotel room where he had spent a night with his double. For a reason he found mysterious, the place did not seem to please his double, who even went so far as to call it a brothel, while from his point of view, the room was very tidy (at the same time, there was hardly any furniture besides the bed). In any case, he had spent the best evening of his life there and was therefore not surprised to feel a sense of well-being and security, which was unfamiliar to him, wash over him. He took a deep breath and began to smile.

He then saw the bathroom door open and a young man come out. For a moment, he thought his double had returned, but it was not a thirty-something with aristocratic features and bloodshot eyes, who seemed vaguely familiar to him. Nevertheless, he couldn't remember where he had met him.

I see that you like the place. Strangely, I feel like I recognize this shabby hotel room.

Who are you?

You should rather ask me what I could do for you?

Why would you do anything for me?

A sensible question. You are less foolish than I feared. However, you seem unaware of your own worth.

I have no value.

It is only lies that the muggles have told you.

What do you know about me?

He then dangerously approached him and spoke in a voice that grew in intensity as his speech progressed.

That the place that was rightfully yours was stolen from you. You are Harry Potter, the heir of one of the most influential pureblood families, the possessor of one of the most respectable fortunes, a celebrity known by everyone and everywhere for acts that are not his own, but above all a wizard with unlimited magical potential if he had the right teaching. I could teach you and lead you on the path to greatness. Believe in me and you will obtain the power you have always coveted. Stand by my side and together we will take revenge on this world that has always brought us nothing but harm.

No. Now, leave.

This simple refusal suddenly made the man angry, and his face suddenly lost all grace and allure.

What!? Are you crazy? Why so casually reject what I am offering you? Don't you understand that this is your only chance to get what you've always wanted?

But before he could continue to berate him, Harry woke up with a start. He coughed violently. He patted himself and once again found that he was soaked. Forgetting his dream, he looked angrily at Ron who was standing in front of him with an empty glass of water in his hand.

Sorry, but you were screaming and you didn't want to wake up. I didn't know what to do. Ron confessed sheepishly, giving him that unbearable look of pity.

Without bothering to respond, he left the room where he had unintentionally fallen asleep after returning in tears from the stream. The other tried to stop him to talk, but he ignored them. He didn't want to talk to them or face their pitying looks. He then saw the starry sky through the windows of the Weasley's living room. He had apparently slept all afternoon and was no longer sleepy. He began to regret not accepting the offer Voldemort had made to him in his sleep. He said Voldemort, because even though he had dodged the question of his identity, he understood who was the source of his dream. His double had warned him that he had a connection through his scar with the dark wizard and it had been burning since he woke up.

How could he be naive enough to believe he would obey him, Harry wondered. Besides the fact that he had killed his parents and clearly wanted to do the same with him (at least until recently), Harry knew that power wasn't given: it was taken. All he could give him was a more comfortable leash than the old one. And he was tired of everyone treating him like a dog. One day, he would become powerful and everyone would fear him, Voldemort included, he vowed. But he would get there alone, without anyone's help, and thus, he would be the only one at the top.

However, the last few days had resurrected some of his dreams that he thought he had long given up on, and the feeling of loneliness overwhelmed him. Although his experience of a makeshift family was recent, he no longer wanted to be alone. But he could no longer stay with the Weasleys. Not after what had happened at the river. At the same time, he was stuck at their place.

Since he was going to have to face them one way or another, he decided to go to the adults' room to ask for news about his double. The last time he had asked for news, Molly had been evasive and said they would talk about it after her husband returned. With luck, he was recovered.

But when he arrived near their room, he heard a man's voice murmuring his name. As quietly as possible, he pressed his ear against their door.

Do you really think Dumbledore knew? Asked the voice of Molly Weasley.

I no longer know, Molly. What is more implausible? That he allowed these abuses to happen or that his Muggles managed to thwart the surveillance he put in place before abandoning him with them? In any case, the Dursleys must have wizard accomplices. It is too late to back down now. I have used my connections to initiate an investigation. And once it becomes public, even Dumbledore's attempts at obstruction will no longer be able to stop it.

What are we going to do with him in the meantime?

Keep him with us, of course. Replied Arthur Weasley.

I am not sure that it's a good idea. He is not happy with us.

He is just disturbed by everything he has experienced. Anyone would be in his place. With time and a lot of care, I am sure he will get better.

Precisely, I don't think we are the best suited to provide him with care. We already have many children and I can't afford to give him the attention he needs. And I have no idea how to take care of this child. He is so... I know it's not his fault, but...

You take care of it very well, Molly. It's just that it takes some time to adapt. And then it's temporary. As soon as we have his godfather released, he will probably request custody.

Do you really think that after all these years, he will be able to take care of a child? And that's assuming you manage to get him released.

No doubt not right away, but with a little time.

Time is exactly what we lack. Imagine what will happen when the press finds out where he is. The Burrow will be besieged by journalists and fanatic wizards thinking he will save them. And I don't even dare to imagine what will happen when You-Know-Who finds out. We won't be able to protect him, Arthur. Not without Dumbledore's help, anyway.

Arthur Weasley only responded with a long silence. Understanding his discomfort, Molly decided to change the subject.

How is the other Harry? Or whatever way we should call him. The only thing he dared to ask me is if he was okay, and I'm beginning to wonder if we did the right thing by entrusting him to Dumbledore.

Sick. The mediwizards do not understand what he has and Dumbledore refuses to transfer him to St. Mungo's. All diagnostic spells indicate that he is in perfect health, but he does not come out of his coma and his breathing is becoming slower and slower. It drives Dr. Housser completely crazy. For the first time, he has no idea what he has. If the vitality potions continue to have no effect, he fears they will not survive more than two days.

Poor little one. How are we going to break this to him?

I don't know Molly. For now, let's not tell him anything. No need to disturb him further.

Holding back his tears, Harry went back up to Ron's room. Ron tried to talk to him, but he ignored him and lay down on his bed, covering his head with blankets. After a while, Ron eventually gave up and ignored him.

He could finally try to fall back asleep, but throughout the night sleep eluded him. He was no longer tired at all, and all his senses were on high alert, focused on finding a solution. But the only one he saw required him to finally calm down. Why did everyone who loved him have to leave? Petunia might have been right. Maybe there was something wrong with him and he brought misfortune to those close to him.

After several hours, once Ron's snores had filled the room, he pushed back the sheets and began to pace the Weasley living room.searching for a solution. After a while, wanting to get some air, he tried to take a walk in the garden, but the door stubbornly refused to open. He tried to resort to one of the open windows to let the fresh air cool the old building overheated by the August sun, but a magical barrier prevented him from crossing. He then remembered that in addition to being powerless, he was a prisoner. In rage, he punched the wall and only succeeded in hurting himself more.

Defeated, he sat on a sofa and it was at that precise moment when he had given up the idea of sleeping that he finally fell into the arms of Morpheus without realizing it.

oOoOoOo

He was once again in the hotel room. Even before turning around and seeing his red eyes, he knew he was there. Except this time, the young man had made way for a sorcerer with reptilian features much more similar to those of the sorcerer who had wreaked havoc in Diagon Alley.

So, you have thought about my offer.

Yes, I will do whatever you want. All I want in return is for you to help me save him.

Do you at least know who he is? Or rather what he is?

I don't care. I don't want him to die. Tell me what's wrong with him. Demanded Dark-Harry, gathering all his courage.

I have no idea. Or rather, I am afraid to guess. He is another you, dead in a distant universe and reincarnated here with the help of magic that surpasses the darkest black magic. My double had the same symptoms as him before disappearing into dust. Their presence at this time and place is a violation of the most fundamental rules of existence, and they are destined to disappear. Neither you nor I can do anything about it. It is already a miracle that this pitiful kid has been able to survive so long, while even my double didn't last more than a few hours.

So you have nothing to offer me. I'll manage on my own. Replied Dark-Harry as he processed the information.

Are you sure about that? He is condemned, but not you. Together, we could do great things. We could push the boundaries of magic.

Voldemort moved his hand and in front of him appeared a woman with red hair who looked at him tenderly, accompanied by a man with messy auburn hair.

Mom? Dad?

Yes, together, we could bring them back. Said Voldemort as the illusions vanished when Dark-Harry rushed towards them to embrace them.

You are the one who killed them. And now you're trying to make me believe that you want to bring them back. Go to hell.

Ah, ah, ah! Know that usually, I do not tolerate insolence. But you are special.

In what? You think I'm the only one miserable enough to believe your false promises.

On the contrary, it is exceptional that I meet someone who does not succumb to my charms. I think you greatly overestimate the intellectual capacities of most of the cockroaches that walk this earth. We are alike, you know. We were both victims of those wretches, just smart enough to understand the threat we represented and to unsuccessfully try to bring us down to their level. That's what your muggles saw in you and tried to break. What I tried to break. ButWhen I fought your double the other day, I understood my mistake. Your potential is immense and my only hope is not to fight it, but to help it develop. Let me stand by your side and you will show them all how infinitely superior you are to them.

The offer was tempting, but there would always be time to think about it later. For now, he wanted only one thing:

If you really are on my side, then give me a way to go to Hogwarts.

Dark-Harry watches Voldemort hesitate in silence.

Fine, but once you're there, you'll have to do something for me in return. It's nothing much, you'll see. He added, seeing Dark-Harry start to protest.