Chapter Text
Lily had always wanted to visit Stonehenge.
Even before she knew of magic and before she researched the stones’ magical properties, she found their mystery enchanting. There was something otherworldly about the place. Not even the magical world knew how the stones came to be. The leading theory was that it was a fairy ring of some sort, though rarely had a fairy been spotted there.
On a chilly, full moon night, with seven witches and wizards standing inside the circle, it felt like the kind of magic that a good light witch like her shouldn’t get caught up in. But desperate times called for desperate measures.
“Do you think it will work?” James asked as they watched Albus cover every inch of ground inside the circle with a potion that smoked and bubbled in the large cauldron hovering in the air. “It still seems too good to be true.”
“It does, but I had to leave my doubts behind when I gave up nearly every moment of the past month to spend locked away in a potions lab with Severus. If it doesn’t work, I will— well, I don’t know what I’ll do, but it won’t be pretty.”
Thirty days of nearly constant attention to the potion Albus was coating the ground with. Days she could’ve spent with her husband and children, because in the middle of a war, you never truly knew how much time you would have to spend with your loved ones. If this didn’t work, she would find Severus and get epically drunk with him, that was what she’d do. James and the gang could join them if they were prepared to bitch about the world with them.
They stepped aside so that Albus could get the ground they’d been standing on and took their positions, standing in a wide circle. Albus, James, Lily, Sirius, Minerva, Severus, Bill. The second the last drop hit the ground, a blinding white light burst from the ground.
“Now!” Albus yelled, though he hadn’t had to. The light was enough of a cue.
Lily’s eyes were squeezed shut to avoid the blinding light, but she could tell where everyone else was through their voices, everyone chanting at slightly different speeds. It was chaotic, brutal, and James’ hand was latched tightly around hers. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes of chanting, but her voice was sore from the guttural sounds she had to recite and her chest was tight with stress. If she spoke even one letter incorrectly…
There was a crack not unlike apparition, but a thousand times louder. Lily continued chanting until she reached the end of her piece. One by one, they stopped, until it was only Albus’ voice against the backdrop of a noise that Lily couldn’t even begin to describe. It was a warbling, sinister sound that her brain registered as threat threat threat.
Albus’ voice stopped. It was the end of his role in the ritual, but a part of her thought the sound had taken him. She couldn’t hear him, couldn’t see him over the blinding white light. Lily’s knees shook with the effort to stay in one place. There was something wet on her cheeks and she realized she’d started crying at some point.
And then without warning, everything stopped. The sound had been silenced. Her eyelids went from white to red to black. Carefully, Lily opened her eyes, releasing James’ grip to wipe her cheeks. Next to her, James too was unsteady, his whole body shaking. The others were in a similar state, but they were all standing.
In the very center of the circle stood a man in black robes. Lily couldn’t see him very clearly with the spots in her vision and the dim light the moon provided, but there was no doubt he was the one. A person who had the power to defeat Voldemort.
“Well, this is interesting,” the man said, his voice deep and unfamiliar. He had a British accent and a tone that was more interested than frightened. Good—they needed someone wild enough to agree to help them. “I haven’t felt something like that since I tried to portkey both drunk and stoned.”
“My name is Albus Dumbledore,” Albus spoke. He took a step closer to the man, reaching his hand out for a handshake. “I understand you must have questions, but will you trust us to take you to a secure location? The magic of the ritual may have been noticed by Voldemort’s forces. We were also unable to cast proper muggle-repelling wards, so it is likely there could be someone coming for us any second.”
Lily’s heart thudded in her chest. If the answer was no, she was going to grab him and apparate him anyway, power to destroy Voldemort or no.
“Voldemort’s forces? Muggles?” The man sounded utterly confused. “Alright, why not? Stranger danger is for losers, anyway. You had better not force-feed me any lemon drops while I’m there.”
With that, he clasped Albus’ hand, and the tell-tale crack of side-along apparition rang. Lily was never going to be able to hear that sound without remembering this night, she thought with a sigh. She shared a look with James and Sirius, the others having left immediately afterward.
“First impressions?” she asked.
“Too casual,” Sirius instantly said. “He’s been pulled here by who knows who and all he does is joke around and agree to be apparated to what might be a cell?”
“No arguments here,” came from James. “It could be that he recognizes us. He certainly knows something of Albus, judging by that lemon drop comment.”
“Or he said it to make us think that,” Lily mused.
“Only one way to find out.” And Sirius was gone.
With a nod toward James, Lily did the same. She appeared in the location they’d specifically chosen for this purpose, a small house owned by a distant relative of Minerva’s. It hadn’t been used in years at this point. Neither Voldemort nor the rest of the Order had ever been here, making it the perfect intermediate spot. If their visitor wasn’t agreeable, they’d come to the conclusion that they did not have the power to subdue someone who could defeat Voldemort himself. At least if he turned on them, he wouldn’t get the rest of the Order. It wasn’t the safest of missions, but Albus needed all the help he could get, and they were some of the Order’s top fighters.
The round kitchen table was already occupied. Their visitor sat with his back to the kitchen wall. Severus was across from him, Minerva next to Severus, and Albus was making tea in the kitchen.
“Where’s Bill?” she heard Sirius ask.
Lily ignored Albus’ comment about him needing to do another task for Albus.
It didn’t matter.
What mattered was the way her chest hurt when she looked at their visitor. He had her eyes. She would never have been able to miss that. They seemed to be even greener than hers, almost frighteningly like the Killing Curse, but the basis was Lily’s. The dark hair was like nothing but James’ mop before he became a semi-respectable businessman. His features were handsome, angular, and just below the end of his fringe poked a scar that Lily remembered so clearly, even though she’d seen it only for a day before she buried her son.
“What is your name?” Lily asked, feeling as though something inside her was breaking.
“Lily,” James murmured from beside her.
“I thought the two of you looked familiar,” their visitor said, his words loud in the quiet of the room. “Harry Potter, at your service.”
She didn’t know what to say, but what came out was, “You’re so handsome.” And he was, he was her adorable baby boy as a handsome young man in his mid-twenties.
“Thanks,” Harry said, smiling at her. He ran his fingers through his hair, drawing her attention again to the very same scar that had looked enormous on the forehead of her poor little boy. On this man, it was rough and red against his skin, but he had grown into someone who carried it well. “I suppose that’s all the introductions we really need? Unless any of you have changed your names. Actually that’s very possible.” His gaze rested on each of them in turn. “Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Sirius Black, Lily Evans, James Potter.”
“I do usually go by my married name,” Lily said, her lip twitching. She took the seat to Harry’s right.
James sat down on her other side. “It took me long enough to convince you to take it. Hello, Harry.” His hand settled on top of Lily’s on the surface of the table.
“You two are cute,” Harry said.
“Sickeningly,” Sirius agreed. “Was I still your godfather in your world?”
“Hell yeah,” Harry replied, his eyes light. “Best dogfather in the world. We actually had brunch earlier today.”
“Best meal of the day,” Sirius replied, nodding sagely.
“And you were my Transfiguration professor back in the day,” Harry said, turning to Minerva. “My fondest memories of Hogwarts are of you calling me Mr. Potter with that tone that you have when I’ve aggravated you half to death.”
“Dear lord,” Minerva said. “I do feel for her. I suppose you were something like James? Nonstop pranking, reckless adventuring—”
“—putting other students in danger,” Severus added with a sneer.
Lily held in her sigh, but she put a very special sort of glare in her eyes. Severus and the Marauders had reached a shaky truce years ago, leaving only the occasional cutting word but no real violence, and there was no reason to be cruel to someone who only looked like James. For Merlin’s sake, the man had met Harry less than half an hour ago.
“I mostly just put myself in danger,” Harry said, easily. “Good to see you, Severus.”
Lily couldn’t find any hint of a lie in those words. Harry was even smiling at Severus. Her heart felt warm. At least the feud hadn’t carried on to the next generation in Harry’s dimension.
“Don’t tell me he was your favorite professor or something,” Sirius groaned. “Don’t break my heart like that.”
“Well, not exactly,” Harry’s lips twitched with amusement as he glanced between the two of them. “But I did get to know him well after Hogwarts. I mean, he’s my co-godfather by marriage these days.”
As Harry’s words dawned on Sirius, it was as though all the light and goodness in the world left his eyes. “No.”
“You’re either an extraordinary liar or you aren’t lying,” Severus said, aghast. “You— what the hell could have happened to cause my other self to abandon all common sense?”
“Why would I lie about something like that?” Harry asked. “I was the officiant at your wedding. That brunch I was talking about earlier? It was with the both of you. We talked about how you two were remodeling—”
“Stop right there,” Severus interrupted, looking faintly ill.
Lily couldn’t help but feel a little amused. But Harry, he wasn’t hiding his amusement at all, even laughing quietly at the two of them. Oh, he must have been a hellion growing up if he was this bad as an adult. James would’ve been so proud. And there her amusement went, leaving behind such an odd mix of happiness and profound sadness.
“Sirius,” James said, solemnly. “You are never, ever living this down.”
“I hate you.”
Harry seemed to have decided to quit torturing Sirius and Severus, because he moved on to the man who had just now joined them, levitating a teacup for each of them and a platter of biscuits for the center of the table. He sat down on Harry’s other side, though not as close as Lily had.
“Albus Dumbledore,” Harry greeted. “I would’ve have to have been knocked on the head to not recognize you.”
“I only wish I could say the same. Your counterpart passed away twenty-three ago, I’m afraid, and I could only guess at your identity when I first saw your face. It’s an honor, my boy.”
“Sorry,” Harry said, awkwardly glancing at James and Lily.
Lily let James do the accepting, watching as Harry tapped on the edge of his teacup. He snorted softly, shaking his head. Then Harry brazenly lifted his teacup, reached over, and switched it out with Albus’.
“I’ve missed you, Albus,” Harry said, with no anger that she could hear in his voice. “Balls of steel right there.”
Language, Lily almost said out of habit. But she refrained. Harry was a grown adult and she was hardly in a position to rebuke him, his mother from an alternate dimension or no. It was a task for Harry’s real mother, she thought with a pang. This different Lily who had been able to raise her first son instead of bury him.
“I had to try,” Albus said, jovially. “Tell me, Harry, are you not worried about your safety because you care for us, or because you’re powerful enough to subdue us?”
“Bit of one, bit of the other.” Harry’s tone was easy. Lily realized she hadn’t heard an edge of tenseness in it since he’d arrived. It was strange. “It’s been a while since I’ve had to deal with violence. Our war ended five years ago. The worst I’ve gotten hurt since is during an Unspeakable experiment fuckup.” He scowled at that one. “But really, it’s because these days, I’m not used to anyone being a real threat to me. It would be senseless.”
Another tap of a finger, and then Harry was drinking his tea, easy as you please.
“Is that a threat?” Severus asked. His eyes were intent on Harry’s face.
Lily felt protective, but it was James who spoke. “Lay off him.”
“Lay off of a powerful wizard who we know next to nothing about? I suppose you’re all sentimental now because he’s your dead son come alive—” Severus cut himself off, gaze flitting to Lily’s angry face. “I apologize, Lily.” At Lily’s continued glare, he spit out, “James. But my point still stands. We have no idea what kind of life this Harry Potter has led.”
“Perhaps we should ask him,” Albus cut in.
“An interrogation by a sweeter name?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.
“A conversation that I’m sure you can get out of easily,” Albus corrected. “It’s hardly an interrogation when both sides exchange information.” Severus looked like he was about to speak again, but Albus continued on, “We summoned you here using an ancient ritual that responds only to those with great need. Times are dark in our dimension, and growing darker by the day. Our second wizarding war has lasted ten years now with no sign of end. We asked the ritual to bring to us our greatest need: the power to defeat Voldemort. We were graced with you.”
“Little old me,” Harry murmured.
“Is it true? Do you have that power?” Minerva asked, leaning in.
Harry’s fingers tapped on the edge of this teacup, though this time he didn’t seem to be checking it for tampering. “Do I have the power? Sure. The war with Voldemort ended years ago in my world and my side was victorious. Do I have the inclination?” He looked around the table, meeting each of their eyes one by one. “How can you possibly expect me to say yes? Who exactly do you think I am?”
“A brave man, the son of two of the most strong, wonderful people I have ever met. One who has already allowed us to bring him here when there was nothing forcing him to take my hand. This isn’t your obligation, but it is our dear hope that you would agree to help us.”
*
Harry looked at all of them, at the fragile hope that seemed to be in every one of their expressions, however deeply hidden or plainly given. It was unsettling. No one had looked at him like that in ages. He assumed this was the look his husband received from his minions when they were hoping not to get Crucio’d, but Harry wasn’t really a minions type of guy.
When he’d first landed in the middle of Stonehenge, Harry had been confused and weirded out by all these familiar faces looking not quite right (by being actually alive, in some cases), but he’d gone along with them out of curiosity. And now the cat was being killed because these jerks wanted him to do their dirty work. Harry nearly said no on principle. He was the co-ruler of an entire wizarding nation, not some kind of assassin for hire. On the other hand, well. It wouldn’t be bad to try to prove his power against an alternate version of his husband. They had a long-standing argument about who was really the strongest and this would be a fucking fantastic point in his favor. Voldemort would be so pissed.
“I suppose…” Harry dragged the moment out, because what the hell. He avoided looking at James and Lily, whose expressions were making him uncomfortable. “I have been looking for an excuse to go on holiday. Even if it’s a working holiday, I assume I’ll be able to still get some time under the sun in.”
That evidently wasn’t the answer they were expecting, but it seemed they would accept it. He only had time to get a few more tidbits of information out of them before Albus decided to call it a night, claiming he was looking out for Harry and that it must have been a long day. Harry couldn’t argue; it had been. Some very energetic sex in the morning, brunch with his husband and godfathers to go over the details of the newly proposed goblin treaty, sparring with his husband while they yelled at each other about what was necessary to require in the treaty (and it really wasn’t to keep the goblins as slaves forevermore and see if they would evolve to become more like house-elves, seriously, the Griphook clan still looked at Harry with murder in their beady eyes, not docility), settling some minor disputes that the ministry couldn’t solve and his husband had managed to dump on him, traveling against his will to another dimension, meeting his parents for the first time in his memory… Yeah, it had been a long day.
Lily and James invited him to their home in Godric’s Hollow whenever he felt like it the next day, not realizing they’d need to give him the address. Harry had only been there once and his memories were blurry. Eventually he would really have to tell these versions of his parents that he didn’t know them very well. It just hadn’t come up earlier. That was a lie, but eh. They both seemed weirdly soft and Harry liked a challenge, not soft targets he could hurt just by bringing up a kid they’d lost.
That couldn’t be everything, of course. Harry figured he’d play along until he figured out where they were hiding their darkness. There had to be some kind of prisoner torture chamber at the Order’s main base or a plot by Dumbledore that left them all potioned and dependent on him. No matter how good they seemed, the bad would out. It was a comforting thought. The idea of two legitimately good people giving birth to him—even if they weren’t exactly his parents—was pretty horrifying.
Once the Order had called it a night, Harry retreated to the safe house's only bedroom and took a seat on the bed with his back against the headboard and his legs crossed.
He wasn't very good at meditation; it was hard to fit practicing something that was rarely necessary into his busy life, no matter what his husband said about meditation opening a connection to one's magic. Harry couldn't bear to spend part of his day lazing around with his eyes closed when he could instead open that connection with his husband via blowjobs.
It took some time, but he began to get a feel for the bond between him and Voldemort. Usually the connection would be wide open, a constant ability to speak with each other, feel each other's emotional states, and allow the other to see through his eyes if one of them was doing something particularly interesting. Or interestingly violent. There had been that month where they'd tried to out-violence each other and Harry hadn't been able to get the smell of blood out for weeks afterward. Now, the connection was muted, uncomfortably so. When concentrating, Harry could tell that Voldemort was extremely pissed off, but not about what.
Harry sent some calm toward him and got twice as much anger in return.
It could be that his husband disapproved of Harry ambling off into different dimensions.
Ah, well.
Better to ask for forgiveness than wait for a chance like this to escape him. Most likely, had he not entered the portal that appeared before him, the ritual would have tried to locate a different Harry Potter. A Harry Potter who wouldn't have appreciated the hilarity of this summoning. It was true that Harry had never studied obscure magics as deeply as his husband, but he'd recognized the feel of the magic around Stonehenge. Their two worlds were connected now until the connection was specifically broken. Harry would have to see if he could temporarily open the connection to speak with Voldemort and calm him back down to his usual level of irritation. He'd rather not his husband stay angry with him.
As interesting as this world seemed to be, Harry didn't want to get stuck here because Voldemort flipped him the bird and closed the connection on his end, making Harry actually work to get back.
Just in case, Harry sent his love through their bond.
He added his lust, too, because make-up sex was definitely going to be necessary.