This fanfic, although it is set after Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire,
only contains slight spoilers for the first two Harry Potter books. Pretty much,
I assume that you have some knowledge of the Harry Potter series. Harry Potter
and all characters contained within this story are the property of J.K. Rowling
and her publishing company. I am making no money off of this story, and wrote it
purely for entertainment purposes. Do not repost anywhere without the
permission of the author!
Episode 1: The Tangled Past
Kelly M. Grosskreutz
Harry opened his eyes. He couldn't remember how he had gotten here. Wherever here was.
He was in what appeared to be the top of a warehouse. Grayness everywhere, light coming from he didn't know what. He was lying on a cold, metal catwalk. Below him was a long drop into what appeared to be pure blackness. Great, he thought. The drop is so far that I can't even see the bottom.
Then he realized that he had even bigger problems than accidentally falling off of the catwalk. For looming above him was none other than his nemesis, Lord Voldemort.
Harry raised himself up onto his elbows, thinking frantically. How was he going to get out of this? He didn't know.
Voldemort spoke in his high, cold voice. "So, Potter, we meet again. And this time, there is no escape for you. None, except for you to join me."
Harry shook his head. "No," he said, using the railing to pull himself to his feet.
"You are beaten, Potter. It is useless to resist." He took a step closer to Harry. Harry stepped back. "Join me, and you will be more powerful than you can possibly imagine."
Harry kept stepping backwards, keeping the same amount of space between himself and Voldemort. He had to stall for time. He had just remembered that he had his wand up his sleeve. One flick of his wrist, and he could bring it down into his hand. He had a chance, after all.
"I will never join you," he said, coming to the end of the catwalk, which was poised over what he presumed to be the middle of the warehouse. He was trapped. It was now or never. He had to make his move.
He assumed a surprised look and pointed with his left hand over Voldemort's shoulder. "Dumbledore, am I ever glad to see you here!"
It worked, but not as well as Harry had hoped. "What!" snarled Voldemort, glancing quickly over his shoulder. Harry flicked his wand down into his right hand and raised it at Voldemort. But, unfortunately for Harry, Voldemort still had his wand pointed at Harry. Harry had only gotten "STUPE-" out of his mouth when Voldemort looked back, saw what Harry was doing, pressed on his wand with his thumb, and chopped off Harry's right hand with the blade that grew out of the wand.
Harry screamed in agony. He'd thought the pains he felt in his scar was bad, but this was ten times worse, a hundred times worse. Clutching his stump to his side, he sank to his knees, crying and moaning in pain.
Voldemort smiled. "Like my new addition?"
Harry spat out something inappropriate to write in a children's book.
Voldemort just shook his head, still smiling. "Now, now, Harry, that wasn't a very nice thing to say, was it? I'm shocked. Especially when I have so much I could tell you, things that I feel I have to tell you-"
"Whatever you have to say to me, I don't want to hear it," spat Harry. "All you have to say are lies."
Voldemort laughed, a high, shrill laugh that pierced Harry's ears. "Interesting that you bring up lies, young Potter."
Harry almost asked, "What do you mean?" but stopped himself before the question left his lips, remembering that he didn't care what Voldemort had to say to him. It looked less and less likely that he would be getting out of this alive.
"What do I mean, you're wondering?" Voldemort asked, reading in Harry's eyes his unspoken question. "Ask yourself, young Potter, do you know everything about what happened the night your parents died?"
Harry used the pole at the end of the catwalk to drag himself to his feet, still keeping his right stump clasped under his left armpit. If he was going to die, he sure didn't want to die on his knees at Voldemort's feet. His parents sure hadn't died like that.
Thinking of his parents, Harry's fear turned to anger. How dare Voldemort talk about them? He's the one who had murdered them, forcing Harry to live with the horrid Dursleys. Not wanting to hear anymore about his parents from their murderer, Harry growled, "He told me enough. He told me you killed them."
Voldemort's smile left his face, a serious look replacing it. "Yes, I did kill them. I admit that. It's rather a pity that your mother had to go all noble and self-sacrificing, too. She really didn't have to die, you know. I told her to keep her nose out of what wasn't her business, but she refused, and she paid the price. I can't help that."
Harry wasn't just angry now. He was downright furious. "Not her own business?" he shouted. "You were wiping out every wizard that opposed you! You had just killed her husband, and you would've killed me next! That was her business!"
Voldemort didn't seem to be bothered by Harry's fury. Instead, he looked pleased by it. "It was her business only because she chose to make it so. You see, Harry, I had come there to discipline my son, and to take my grandson with me."
Harry's anger melted into confusion. What was Voldemort talking about? As far as he knew, no one else had been at his house except for himself and his parents. Had there been other people at their house, people his dad had been hiding from Voldemort? And since when did Voldemort have a son?
Unless, could he mean...no, he couldn't possibly. He'd seen his family, both in the Mirror of Erised and in the photo album he'd been given by Hagrid. Besides..."all my grandparents are dead," he murmured, not realizing he was speaking aloud.
But he realized it a second later, when Voldemort spoke the words that would change his life forever. "No, Harry, they're not. I am your grandfather."
Even though he'd seen it coming, Harry was still stunned. He found himself moaning, "No, it can't be true. That's impossible. My grandparents are dead."
Voldemort continued on, as earnest as Harry had ever heard him. "Search your feelings, Harry. You know it to be true."
"NNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!" screamed Harry.
"Harry, you can't deny it. It's a part of who you are. I came to your house, years ago, to kill your father, this is true. He'd defied me, his own father, one time too often, and he had to be punished for his mistake. But I also came to take you. Your mother wouldn't let me take you, so I had to punish her as well. But you are my heir, Harry, and the heir of Slytherin. I have fought all these years to conquer the world, and it will be all yours after I die. You'll inherit it! Join with me, Harry, and we can rule as grandfather and grandson!"
Harry didn't know what to do. He was still reeling over finding out he was related to Voldemort, the most evil wizard who had ever lived. But he knew one thing. He could never join him. Not after all the things that Voldemort had done, not just to his family, but to all people everywhere. He would rather die than join Voldemort.
And with that realization, he knew that that's exactly what he had to do. If he stayed where he was, Voldemort would have him and keep trying to get him to join with him. But that wasn't his only choice.
Harry let go of the pole and stood up straight. He looked Voldemort in the eyes and calmly said, "I'll never join with you, Voldemort." Then he turned and jumped off the edge of the catwalk into the darkened abyss below.
Harry fell for what felt like hours, but had to have been only seconds. Then he felt himself slowing until he hung suspended in midair. Before he'd had a chance to wonder what was going on, he saw a tiny light that he realized a second later was the tip of a wand glowing. A voice he thought he would never hear again exclaimed, "Harry! Climb onto the back of my broomstick!"
Hermione Granger maneuvered her broomstick so that Harry could position himself on the back of it. Putting his uninjured arm around her waist so he wouldn't fall off, he sank against her back, letting her fly them out of the place and away from Voldemort. Voldemort, who was his grandfather.
Harry closed his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me, Dumbledore?" he whispered brokenly, tears streaming down his face. "Why didn't you tell me?"
He was still crying silently when Hermione set them down at Hogwarts.
Disclaimer: All content is made up, and no profit or lucre is expected, solicited, advocated or paid. This is all just for fun. Any comments, please e-mail the author or Wookiee Hut directly. Flames will be ignored. This story may not be posted anywhere without the author's knowledge, consent, and permission.