Pillars of Wind

Pillars of Wind

Chapter One

If there's a god or any justice under the sky

If there's a point, if there's a reason to live or die

If there's an answer to questions we feel bound to ask

Show yourself - destroy our fears - release your mask

-Innuendo

It was a cool, rainy day in mid-October of Harry Potter's sixth year when it happened.

There had been a grand discovery made by the Ministry of Magic. They had found a well, nothing more than a stone basin, really, six inches deep and perhaps twice that across, with runic writing around the brim. It was a well that, when gazed into, showed you a brief glimpse of what appeared to be either the future or the past. The Ministry team from the Department of Magical Artefacts looked it over carefully and deemed it safe for public viewing.

Taking advantage of the opportunity to show off the new prize, Cornelius Fudge decided to take it to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to let the students look into the water for a moment each. Just long enough for them to see that the Ministry had found something truly fantastic. It seemed, to him, to be a good method of raising faith in the Ministry.

This simple, seemingly foolproof plan should have gone off without hitch and would have had it not been for one Harry Potter who, through no fault of his own, seemed to be a magnet for anything and everything unusual.

The well was brought into the Great Hall and the students were herded in so that they could take turns looking into the water. Most students saw things that seemed fairly ordinary, birthday parties for children, what appeared to be an older version of them walking in a wood, things of that nature. A few saw things that frightened them, a village destroyed by flames, blood dripping down steps, dirt blowing over the pale form of an unrecognisable corpse. A very few saw only blackness before they were pulled away in order to give another a turn.

Harry Potter, when his turn came, walked up to the well and looked, expecting to see something like the birthday party Ron had seen. At first he saw nothing, merely deep, impenetrable darkness, but then it changed. No picture appeared, no scene, no image, instead the water seemed to swirl, pulling Harry down into it. He had a moment in which to register the sound of someone screaming before he blacked out.

*

"Harry Potter..." a voice said softly, an icy touch on his forehead accompanying the words.

It was a soft voice, a voice like antique satin, faded and slightly torn. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, inside Harry's head and out of it, the ground and the sky. Harry lifted his head to seek out the owner, searching the darkness surrounding him for some sign of another being. He pulled himself to his feet, uneasy.

"Where are you?" he asked, his voice thin and weak in the oppressive shadows.

"I am here, Harry Potter, and here, and everywhere." A laugh, as haunting as the voice, followed the words.

"Show yourself."

"Ah, brave Harry Potter, the bold Gryffindor hero, the one who will save the world. A heavy burden to be sure." More laughter.

"How do you know who I am?" Harry was afraid and it showed through in his voice.

"Because I know you. Just as you know me."

"But I don't know you." Harry frowned, perplexed.

"Of course you do. I am you. Or is it that you do not know yourself?" There was mockery in the question, but it was serious, too.

"You're... me."

"Yes. I am you, Harry Potter. Or, rather, I am what you will become."

"I'm going to become a disembodied voice living in a dark void?"

Another laugh. "All is not what it seems, Harry, you can't always trust your eyes. I'm not a disembodied voice, nor is this a dark void. I have a corporeal form and this is the In Between. It's the place for those who can no longer live in the other worlds. It's a final refuge for the truly weary."

"And I'm going to end up here. Why me? And, just how many worlds are there, anyway?"

"A fair few. Each one had the same beginning, but they are made different by one choice or event. Your mother being a witch and marrying your father makes yours; your mother and father never meeting, on the other hand, makes the one you are headed for. Do you understand? For these two worlds, you are the one who makes the world what it is. That's how you got here, why the well chose to bring you through. That is how you will become me."

"Wait, I sort of get the worlds thing, but why am I so important?"

"Because you are the one who brings balance by throwing off the previous balance. You cause change and, through that, balance everything out for the next cycle. This is why you are being sent to this other world, because the old balance there still remains. You must go to change this, to tip the scales. And you will do things, Harry, things that are, at this point, unimaginable to you. And, one day, you will return to your own world, as much as it will pain you to do so. But you can only return when the time is right. The gateway will be closed to you until that time."

"Where's all this headed?" A feeling of dread was forming in the pit of his stomach, but he knew that he had to ask anyway.

"All the paths lead now to war. There is no longer any way to avoid it. The war will be terrible, in both worlds, but it is the only way. And, when it is over, when the wars are won - for they will be won - you will find that normal life means nothing to you. And that is how you will find your way here. You'll see."

"You mean there's nothing I can do to prevent all out war? Nothing at all?"

"That's right. But, as high as the cost will be, the end will justify all of it. Now, it's time for you to get on with it."

Before Harry could respond, the blackness seemed to go grey as he, again, lost consciousness.

*

Harry came around slowly at first, shaking his head to clear it. He awoke far more quickly when he saw the wand levelled at his face.

He forced himself to remain calm. "Do you mind lowering your wand? I'm not armed."

He took the opportunity, as the wand was lowered slightly, to figure out more or less where he was. It was the headmaster's office at Hogwarts. He then looked up to see who his would-be attacker was, expecting Dumbledore. Instead, he saw Snape.

"Who are you?" Snape still held the wand at ready, but no longer pointed it into Harry's face.

"I'm Harry, Harry Potter." Harry sat up, trying to regain some of his dignity.

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not." Harry frowned, equally stubborn.

"The only wizarding Potter I know of is James Potter, and he has no children. Therefore, you're lying."

Harry sighed; he knew that the only option he had was to be honest, even if it was unlikely that he would be believed.

"Explain yourself." Snape raised the wand a bit, looking intimidating, but Harry was grateful that he was being given a chance.

"All right... Well... I'm not from this universe. Wait! Before you interrupt me to tell me, yet again, that I'm lying, let me explain. In my universe, there was a woman, Lily Evans; she was a Muggle-born witch who married James Potter. I'm their son, Harry."

Snape raised his eyebrows slightly, but didn't respond.

"In my universe, Lord Voldemort killed both of them when I was an infant, but I survived because of a prophecy that said that the one who could vanquish the Dark Lord would come and the Dark Lord would mark him as his equal, or something like that, anyway. So, I lived. Anyway, I'm a Hogwarts student, a sixth year, and today, or it was today, anyway, the Ministry of Magic brought a magical well to show us. This well shows the person who looks into it something, I'm assuming something from an alternate universe, but I don't know what everyone else saw. Well, when I looked into it, I just saw darkness, and then it pulled me through it."

"Really?" Harry couldn't tell if he was interested or not, so he just kept going.

"When I woke up the first time, I was in this dark, empty seeming place, where I spoke with someone." Harry left out that it had been himself. "This person knew who I was and what was going to happen. He told me that the situation here is different, that Voldemort won and that my parents had never met. He said that there will be a war and that I will be both the cause and the one to end it. That I have a place here, that I'm necessary. So, here I am." Harry looked at Snape, hoping beyond hope that he would believe him rather than kill him.

"Your story is fantastical," Snape began slowly, "The kind of thing that I would not ordinarily believe. However, considering that it shows imagination beyond the average sixteen-year-old boy, and I can see no reason for you to make up such a thing, I think that you are telling the truth. The real test, of course, is whether you say the same thing under Veritaserum."

Harry relaxed, Veritaserum he could handle. His story was true; all the truth potion would do was confirm it.

Snape administered the Veritaserum and proceeded to spend the following twenty minutes asking Harry to repeat his story, as well as a few other questions. When he finally handed Harry the antidote, he appeared to be somewhat satisfied.

"Well, as your story appears to be true, I suppose I'll have to invent someone for you to be. After all, the least prudent thing we could do would be let you wander about calling yourself Harry Potter. The question then becomes: who should you be?"

Harry shrugged - he was too tired to help, didn't know enough, and was pretty certain that it had been a rhetorical question anyway - and didn't say anything.

There was a long silence as Snape looked at him carefully and thoughtfully.

Finally, "Cyrus. Alexander Cyrus."

"Alexander Cyrus," Harry repeated slowly.

"Yes. You said that you have some understanding of the political situation here, so you should be able to follow this. Nikodem and Adena Cyrus were loyalists, they supported the cause - lived well because of it - and ended up getting killed by Order of the Phoenix fanatics in 1981. You would have been about a year old. Your story, from this moment onward, is that you are their son; they knew of a threat to themselves, hid you with a friend who took you out of the country when you were ten years old because she was afraid for your life. You went to school for the past five years in... Canada. However, your guardian - her name was Kiara Ackroyd - died suddenly in March and it was decided a month ago that you would be better off at Hogwarts. Can you remember all of that?"

Harry took a moment to be impressed, and a bit frightened, by Snape's ability to make up convincing lies on short notice before responding wearily. "I've got it."

"Good. Now, I have to sort you and then I can take you to your house, whichever it is."

"Uh, just one quick question, Professor. What happened to Albus Dumbledore?"

Snape blinked once and raised an eyebrow at the question. "He died. Thirteen years ago."

His heart sank. "Oh. Well, I guess you should get me sorted, then."

"I suppose I should." Snape gave him another hard, calculating look before going to get the Sorting Hat.

The Sorting Hat, for its part, looked the same as it did in Harry's universe. It was still a tattered, ugly hat that, when dropped on his head, fell over his eyes.

"Ahhh, let's see here, Harry Potter. Oh! But calling himself Alexander Cyrus in this place. I see. Hmmm, in your home universe, you were a Gryffindor. Ah, but there was always that doubt, that hint of 'what if the hat was right and I am a Slytherin' in the back of your mind. Interesting. Now, what have we got here to work with? You have a good mind, not as studious as a Ravenclaw, but very smart, capable of great things. But... no, Ravenclaw is not for you. Nor is Hufflepuff, you can be patient, yes, but you would rather think up shortcuts than sit and do the hard work. You are not a Hufflepuff, Harry Potter. Are you a true Gryffindor, perhaps, or a Slytherin, as you have always feared? You are brave, it is true, and loyal, but you are also cunning and willing to do whatever is necessary. And can it not be said that Slytherins are loyal to their own? They do not trust quickly, but nor do you. Both houses would serve you well, for what is coming, but I think that one will do more. Congratulations, Harry Potter, you are going to... SLYTHERIN!"

Harry opened his eyes and pulled the hat off. He felt like he should have been more surprised, but he wasn't. Resigned and tired was more accurate. The hat hadn't been lying, he had always had that question at the back of his mind, in a way he was almost relieved that he had a definite answer to it, even if it wasn't the answer he would have wanted.

Snape, on the other hand, did look faintly surprised. He was also giving Harry that same hard look again, as though trying to figure him out, like Harry was a puzzle that didn't fit together quite the way it was expected to.

"Well, then, Slytherin it is. That fits well with you acting as Nikodem and Adena's son; they were both Slytherins. Come along, I'll take you down to the dungeons."

"Wait a moment, sir," Harry said quickly, panicked suddenly by the weight of the story he had to remember. "Before I go down to join the rest of the students, could you tell me about them? Since I'm pretending to be their son, I'd like to know who they were. I feel a little bit guilty taking advantage of their death so that I can have a back story here."

Snape paused for a moment and then went to the desk, found a folder, and pulled out of it a photograph. He handed the photograph to Harry. It was of a young couple, a thin, pale man with long light brown hair and green eyes and a small woman with wavy black hair and big brown eyes. They were smiling and standing close together, the man's smile was crooked and the woman's secretive.

"Nikodem and Adena. This was taken shortly after they got married, spring of 1980, if I remember correctly. They were very happy together. What can I say about them, really? Nikodem was very snide and Adena was very flippant, they complimented each other exceedingly well. Nikodem was a dreamer, all his life he was, but Adena balanced him by being very sensible. They tended to keep mostly to themselves, they led very private lives, but to their friends they were incredibly loyal. Don't feel guilty about acting as their son, they wanted children and I doubt that they will be offended by you doing what you must." Snape seemed a bit sad for a moment and Harry recognised that he had known them well and still mourned their passing. Out of respect, Harry remained silent for a moment.

"Well," Snape said briskly after the moment had passed, "You need to go to your dormitory and get settled in. As you don't have anything with you, I suppose I'll have to order it and you can tell your classmates that your trunk is yet to arrive. You do have a wand, I assume...?"

"Yes." Harry pulled it out and held it up.

"Good. Come along." With that, Snape swept out of the room and off towards the Slytherin Common Room, leaving Harry to follow along.

*

Harry settled into Slytherin House with relative ease. Snape introduced him quickly as Alexander and instructed Draco Malfoy to help him out. After a few minutes of hesitant silence, Draco decided to take him around the school.

"So, Alexander, anything in particular that you wish to see?" Draco asked lightly, exuding an aura of extreme confidence that Harry might have found annoying if he had been more awake, as he led Harry out of the common room and into the corridor.

"Um... I can't really think of anything right now." Harry was tired, worried, and, despite this being a different Draco, he wasn't comfortable in his company and didn't trust him with any information about himself, no matter how small.

"It's your decision." Draco paused. "Do you want to meet some people, then? It's never too early to start making connections, after all."

Harry tried to smile. "Sure. Lead off."

Draco obviously had some people in mind when he suggested that Harry - or, rather, Alexander - meet some people, as he led him immediately to the library and, once there, straight to the table in the most secluded corner of the large room.

At the table sat a girl Harry didn't recognize with dark brown hair pulled precariously into a bun at the base of her neck. She was writing quickly in what appeared to be a diary and kept absently pushing back the hair that had fallen out of the bun and into her face.

"Hallo, Asvoria," Draco said smoothly, sitting down across from her. "How are you this fine, sunny afternoon?"

"It's October, Draco, October afternoons in Scotland are rarely fine or sunny. I, however, am just peachy, thanks." She smiled faintly, but didn't look up from whatever she was writing. "So, what do you want?"

"To introduce you to the new Slytherin."

This got a response. She looked up from her diary, blue eyes meeting Harry's.

"Hello. I'm Asvoria, Asvoria Moon. You are...?" She held out her hand, Harry took it.

"Alexander Cyrus." Harry smiled at her, a real smile bourn of relief that he remembered his name.

"Re-ally?" she drawled, raising an eyebrow. "I didn't know that there were any members of that family left alive. You are a Cyrus, aren't you?"

Harry nodded. "My parents were Nikodem and Adena. I was hidden with a friend because they knew that there was a threat to their lives, she took me out of England when I was ten."

"Remarkable," Asvoria said softly. "A living Cyrus, how about that. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise." There was something about this girl that Harry liked, he wasn't sure what, but it was there.

"What are you writing?" Draco leaned forward, trying to see.

Asvoria snatched it away. "Subtle, Draco. And it's none of your goddamned business. We've been over this."

"You tell Blaise what you write." Draco pouted.

"Blaise never laughs at my ideas." She frowned pointedly.

He sighed in a long-suffering sort of way and got up. "Fine, I know when I'm not wanted. Come on, Alexander, let's go find Blaise, he appreciates me."

Asvoria laughed. "He's in your dormitory reading. That's where he said he was going, at any rate." She looked up again. "I'll see you at dinner? You, too, Alexander, you're welcome to join our odd little group."

"We'll be there. See you later, 'Voria."

"I hate it when you call me that."

"I know. That's why I do." He grinned and, grabbing Harry's arm, left the library. "You'll get used to Asvoria," he said confidently as they got out into the corridor. "She's a little eccentric, but can be a great time when she's not hidden away in the library writing in that diary of hers. She can be a little predictable; she always sits there to write."

"Always?" Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Always. I'm not joking, Alexander, she really does sit there every time she wants to write somewhere quiet, that same chair at that same table." He laughed quietly.

"So, you're going to introduce me to this Blaise person?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Asvoria and Blaise are my best friends, if you want good connections in this school; we're the three you should talk to. Now, the others in the house - you can meet them at dinner - aren't quite so good in that respect, but everyone in our house is worth knowing, they all have a strength." Draco looked almost as though he was daring Harry to contradict him.

"And you're just offering me such powerful connections? No strings attached?" Harry tilted his head, waiting for the catch.

Draco shrugged. "You seem worth knowing, new allies are always good, and we can't have bad relationships in the house, it sets a bad precedent. Who knows? We might even become friends."

Harry almost thought that he'd like that.

*

Blaise Zabini, true to Asvoria's word, was in the sixth year Slytherin boys' dormitory, reading a heavy book. His dark hair hung around him, obscuring his face.

"Ever the Ravenclaw, eh, Blaise?" Draco smirked.

"Shut up, Draco." Blaise turned a page and, much like Asvoria, didn't look up.

"Don't you want to meet my new friend?"

"You have a new friend," Blaise said sceptically, looking up from his book and seeing Harry. "So you do. You, too, my friend, managed to get sucked into the brainless vortex that is Draco Malfoy, I would offer you my sympathy, but I, sadly, am trapped here, too." He shifted to offer Harry his hand. "Blaise Zabini."

"Alexander Cyrus. It's nice to meet you." This time the assumed name came easier to his tongue.

"I trust we'll get to know each other very well and become life-long friends," he said dryly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm trying to read."

Harry and Draco left Blaise to his book and went back into the common room. As they took two chairs near the fireplace and Draco launched into light, empty conversation, Harry began to relax.

Maybe it won't be quite so bad here, after all.