Of Shadow, Shine, and Shades

Ch.2 Whiskey and Books

I... I'm not just in the past... but in another world?

The newspaper fell on the black tiles of the bathroom floor but Harry could not rip his eyes off it. He knew about time travel and theoretical dimensional travel from his research of Apophis. The Dark Lord had appeared out of nowhere without any connection to their present world, and time travel had been one option the Order had considered. And one did not research long-time time travel without coming across theories of alternate realities and different dimensions. Only it had all been theoretical and now Harry was stranded in one.

Probably. He might still be just crazy though his Occlumency pretty much prevented that.

But I really can't trust this different Kreacher and a newspaper over firsthand experience. And this place is weird. Fudge the Minister? And Prophet-named newspaper? At least there's still firewhiskey.

With that thought Harry reached for the bottle, uncapped it and took a long sip without further contemplation. The liquid burned in his throat and on the way down but he welcomed the burn as he'd welcomed pain to be proof of reality. He felt slightly lightheaded and offhandedly remembered he really hadn't drunk any alcohol for a year and perhaps starting with whiskey was not a good idea.

"Oh, what the hell," the man mumbled and tilted the bottle yet again, this time finishing it off. Now, on a good day his performance might have earned him a couple of galleons in a bar – it was not every day you saw someone drinking firewhiskey like water – but this was not a good day and he had a pretty damn good reason to want to drown his thoughts.

Too bad he didn't do it fast enough for one particular thought to disappear into the chaos. The one thought he'd been avoiding since Kreacher's first appearance.

If this is the past... Sev might be alive.

The water in the tub exploded outwards like a bomb had been dropped in, drenching everything in the bathroom. Harry sat in the quickly forming pool of water as the water from the bathtub rained on everything, hiding his tears of pain and loss.

And hope.

Suddenly desperate to get out of this place holding so many memories that were now fighting for attention, the mage grabbed a hold of the sink, trying to get up. His foot slipped and the respected Savior ended up on his face on the floor, too pained to even move. He curled into a tight ball and cried his heart out. It was too much. After a year of slowly dying of desperation and pain he finally had some hope but it hurt a hundred times more.

Couldn't I just die? Haven't I been through enough of life already? Why do I have to experience this torture?

Slowly but surely the mage's sobbing subsided as his mental shields kicked in, and he managed to lift his head off the floor. Water was dropping from the ceiling, sliding down the walls. He rolled onto his back and stared into nothingness.

I need confirmation. I could care less about my positions if my magic actually claimed them upon my arrival but something needs to be done. I have to find out about Voldemort and Apophis and everything. At least know there are minor differences but that doesn't tell me anything about the general situation.

And Severus...

I'll think about Severus later.

Momentarily pushing aside his emotional outbreak and invoking practical part of him the mage attempted to stand up but had to grab a hold of the sink as world tilted and bile rose to his throat. Promptly emptying his stomach of all the fiery liquid he'd consumed earlier Harry could only groan in disgust. Now the floor was covered in water and bile. Maybe he should just go sleep for a couple of hours to clear his head.