Chapter 9: The Task at Hand
Harry stumbled a bit when his feet landed firmly on hard, solid ground. His surroundings were dark and he could not see clearly where he was. He assumed he was on a street, since in the distance he thought he saw a streetlamp but it was extremely foggy outside. Feeling slightly reckless he took a few steps into the thick fog towards the dim orange light.
"Hello?" he called out hesitantly. Everything felt so surreal, like he was in a dream that he desperately wanted out of but did not know how. The light seemed so far away and kept getting dimmer and dimmer so that it seemed he was moving further away from it instead of getting closer.
"What do you think you're doing, wandering the streets at a time like this?" said a cruel, sarcastic voice from behind him. Harry turned around swiftly, his heart racing madly. Instinctively he whipped out his wand and held it high, ready to strike if he needed to. A cloaked man stood before him, pointing his wand straight at Harry's heart. Due to the fog, Harry was not able to make out his face.
"I don't think you will be needing that," said the man swiftly. Before Harry could react, he had muttered something intelligible and in seconds, Harry had blacked out.
~*~
"Why did you bring the boy here?"
Harry awoke to the sound of a hushed woman's voice.
"He is a Wizard in a Death Eater part of town. I want to know why he was there. He was probably sent by Dumbledore to retrieve information on what we are doing . . ." said a man, laughing ruefully. "As if a boy could spy on us."
"He is stirring, be quiet," snapped the woman. Aware that they knew he had awoken, Harry opened his eyes. He was in a dark room with only one window that was closed. Two figures were sitting on chairs on the opposite side of the room, and even in the dark, Harry knew that they were watching him intently.
"Who are you?" asked Harry blearily, sitting up in bed and trying to recall what had happened recently. The man laughed again.
"Guess, silly boy."
"You are Death Eaters, right?" asked Harry. He had a sudden tide of remembrance that he was sixteen years in the past and the last thing that had happened was blacking out in the middle of a street.
"Of course. A good wizard, are you, boy? A muggle-loving fool, no doubt," the women said bitterly, standing up and walking over to the moonlit window.
"Actually, I'm not." Harry swung his legs over to the side of the bed. "I have some information that I think Lord Voldemort will find extremely interesting."
"Yes?" said the man snidely, but Harry could tell that he had perked up some interest by how the man shifted in his seat.
"What is it?" asked the woman, coming over to the bed. "Tell us and we will inform our Master."
"Let's just say," said Harry, "that I know what the prophecy entails and which boy is the untimely threat." The women obliged and left the room immediately through a door next to the chair on which the man was seated. Harry uncomfortably averted his eyes and instead looked out of the window to the starry sky, wondering where Lily Potter, James Potter, and himself, young Harry Potter were right at this moment.
"What is your name?" grunted the man after a few moments, startling Harry.
"Does it matter?" he shot at him. He didn't want to come up with a fake name.
"Yes, I want to make sure that you aren't on Dumbledore's side. I don't trust you just yet."
"Well, I think that Lord Voldemort will appreciate my knowledge on this prophecy even if you trust me or not." Harry turned away, determined not to look at the man. They both fell silent and waited for the woman to return. She returned after a few moments.
"He wants to see you," she breathed after entering. Harry was surprised at the quickness with which he was able to get in touch with Lord Voldemort. Shaking slightly, Harry stood up and followed the woman out of the room where the man still sat. She led him through an extremely dim corridor that caused Harry to stumble a few times before they reached a door at the end. She stopped and turned to him. "I must warn you if your information is useless, he will kill you."
But Harry didn't even worry about that. If this didn't workthere wouldn't be anything for Harry to live for working this reality. Once again, he mentally cursed Neville as he was shoved through the door into Voldemort's lair.
The room had a roaring fireplace on the side of the room that cast a warm glow. It felt much more inviting then the other rooms, even though it's inhabitant rendered it as the least inviting.
"Kneel," said a high, cold voice Harry came to know as Lord Voldemort's. He was sitting with a high red chair with the back facing Harry, so luckily he didn't have to see his face. Harry knelt before the raised dias that held the chair, averting his gaze from Voldemort. A desk was the only thing separating them, and Harry was astounded to realize that his scar was throbbing painfully as it usually did when he was in close proximity to Voldemort. Then, he realized that he did not have his scar back. Not yet, at least. Surreptitiously, he traced his forehead with his finger on where the scar would have been.
"One of my faithful followers captured you and brought you here because he said you looked suspicious and that you might be one of Dumbledore's lackeys," said Lord Voldemort loudly. "and I must say that you certainly do appear that way. You proclaim you know about the prophecy made concerning myself and my downfall." He laughed softly. "How like a foolish child wrapped up in something he cannot begin to understand. But, I cannot take the risk that you might actually hold such crucial information, so talk and I will make your death quick and painless. Otherwise…"
Harry breathed deeply, gathering up courage. This was it. After a short pause to clear the lump that had risen in his throat, he said firmly, "Harry Potter is your biggest threat."
"How do you know that and why should I believe you when someone else just came before you and said that Neville Longbottom will be my biggest threat?" He got here before me, thought Harry. "Very suspicious . . ."
"I am sure because the only other person that heard the prophecy recited everything to me. I cannot tell you exactly what it said, but I know that Harry Potter will be your biggest threat and if you don't believe me, I can't help you," Harry lied, hoping that Voldemort would believe him and not Neville. Where was Neville right now, anyway? Harry wondered. He stood up and walked to the door. "Goodbye." He opened the door and walked through, looking back to see that Lord Voldemort had turned around in his high red chair and was staring at Harry, smirking.
Harry gasped and closed the door instantaneously but the red slits of eyes, shaped like a snake's, loomed in Harry's head and would not go away. He leaned against the door; his eyes snapped shut and breathing hard. What did he just do? Why did he tell Voldemort to try to kill him as a baby, when he had wished numerous times that he was just a normal kid? And he had had that; he lived it. He had a loving, normal family and even a little sister - but he had to give it all up. Why am I giving it all up? He thought.
Because of Hermione.
And Ron.
And the whole Wizarding World.
That's why.
~*~
The woman Death Eater that had escorted him there came out as soon as she heard the door to Voldemort's room close. "What happened?"
Harry glared up at her. "Where's the exit?"
"Did the Dark Lord permit you to leave?"
"I guess, I'm still alive," said Harry irritably, regretting leaving the Firebolt with Hermione. He pushed her aside and went down the rickety, dark staircase. He could see the window of a door at the bottom, so he carefully made his way down until he reached it, and then he could feel the cold night air on his face. The fog from before had cleared up, and the sun was just showing itself on the horizon.
Harry walked quickly down the sidewalk through a town that obviously had better days: the houses were old and falling apart, the sidewalks were cracked, and the lawns were overgrown. It looked even worse as the sun rose further and he could see more detail.
Harry had no idea where he was going, all he knew was that he wanted to get as far from Lord Voldemort as he could; his guilt eating him almost alive. He had just practically told the Dark Lord to kill him and his parents. But you had to, Harry thought, trying to reassure himself. You did the right thing.
Why doesn't that make me feel any better?
He shoved his hands into his pocket moodily and kicked a small pebble from his path, frustrated at the world.. He watched it fly into the air, across the sidewalk, and behind a fence. Then he saw something mysterious - the swish of a black cloak around the corner of the street, just a few feet in front of him. Not another Death Eater following me, thought Harry angrily. He quickened his pace until he reached the corner of the street and looked down. A short figure was running down it, but as Harry watched, he tripped and fell flat on his face.
Harry ran after him, and since he had tripped, caught up with him in no time.
"Who are you?" Harry yelled, searching his pockets for his wand to point it at whoever it was, and then realizing that he didn't have it and the Death Eater back at Voldemort's lair had kept it.
"I am . . . I'm . . . I don't - " stammered the figure, his face still against the pavement.
"Who are you?" repeated Harry loudly, but slightly nervous because he was missing the most important thing in the Wizarding World - a wand.
"Oh, Harry," he said and rolled over so Harry could get a clear view of his face. It was Neville Longbottom.
"Neville!" yelped Harryas hejumped to his feet, completely taken aback.
"Don't hurt me!" he whimpered as Harry's facial expression suddenly turned from shocked to angry.
"How could you Neville? How could you go back and tell Voldemort to try and kill you as a baby?" screamed Harry as Neville sat up and edged away from him and his wrath.
"I - I thought I already explained that in the letter," he said quietly. Harry groaned.
"Neville, you can't change time. Things happen and you can't do anything to stop them. But most importantly you can't go back in time and try to change things - it just makes things worse. Did you know that if Voldemort really went after you, he would have successfully killed you and then continued to take over the Wizarding World?" Neville looked up blankly at Harry. "Yeah, it's true. And Hogwarts would be ruined and run by Dementors and no Muggleborns would be able to attend there. It would be a catastrophe.
"I'm sorry, Harry, I really am," wept Neville, hugging his knees to his chest and rocking back and forth slightly. "I don't know what else to do. I just wanted to make it right."
"Just think next time," barked Harry. Then he sighed, his anger ebbing away immediately. Neville was just trying to help, after all. "Everything is going to be okay."