A World Without

The white ceilings of the hospital wing greeted him as he woke. He could hear voices arguing from behind his closed curtains, but they were in hushed tones.

Harry recovered his glasses from the side table, but his wand was missing. He patted down his robes trying to see if he had place it in his pocket, but he was no longer wearing his clothes. The hospital pajamas where itchy against his skin and his mind was foggy.

A few potion bottles were empty on his bedside table, a calming potions and another for minor scratches and abrasions. Harry's mind should be panicking right now, but it seemed as if the calming potion was extra strength, and he could seem to bring up any emotion aside weariness.

"I swear Potter, he looks just like you!! Are you sure you didn't have some sordid affair with a Mudblood sometime in your past?" Lestrange said in a joking tone of voice. Funny, Harry didn't think anyone who spent a significant amount of time with Bellatrix for a wife would be able to still have a sense of humor.

"Why would it have to be with a Mudblood?" Harry knew that voice, but he had never in his life heard Ron say Mudblood with such venom... This had to have been a bad dream, or maybe Harry had finally snapped. He couldn't seem to find the will to care, damn potion.

"Mr. Weasley, you should not be listening in on your Professors conversations, and for all of you. That word may be used in common society nowadays, but I do not want it repeated in my hospital ward. Am I understood?"

"Yes Madam Pompfrey." Three voices spoke in unison. Harry curtains were thrown open just in time to watch Ron walk out of the hospital wing.

"I knew all of that racket would wake you, sometimes their arguing could wake the dead. Well young man, it seems as if you have had quite the night, my diagnostic spells indicate that you had the cruciatis curse cast on you last night." Harry nodded absently, his eyes were a bit fuzzy without his glasses, but he could still recognize his own face looking at him from the foot of his bed. James Potter was staring at him intently, a dark scowl on his face.

“Young man, I need you to pay attention!” The staring contest was broken between father and son by Madam Pompfrey.

"Yes, I was.... what is going on? Where is the Headmaster? I don't know what is happening." Harry endeavored not to look at the silent man standing at the end of his bed. This whole thing must be a dream, not a good idea to get attached to a dream.

Madam Pompfrey patted his hand gently before sweeping her wand over him. The spell gave left a blanket multicolored lights hovering over his body, the darkest patch pulsing over his forehead. The nurse gasped in shock, apparently being the only one in the room able to decipher the lights. She waved her wand a second time, canceling her spell and sending off what Harry recognized as a patronus message. She took a moment to recover her wits and continuing her questioning.

"Well why don't we start with your name?" Harry didn't see the harm in giving his real first name, but he decided to leave off the last with his father hovering over him.

"Harry." All three people surrounding his bed frowned when he only gave his first name.

"No last name? Do you remember how you got here?" Her tone was only slightly reprimanding, but the glare his dad was giving him was counteracting his potion induced calm.

"I was by the gate, and I went to check on Hagrid, but he wasn't there, and the Headmaster's body wasn't where it should be, and everything is different. You should look older, and you’re dead." Harry was muttering and those around him weren't able to decipher half of the words that were coming out of his mouth. Another dose of calming potion was unceremoniously shoved down his throat, and Harry was once again mellow and uncaring.

"He's barmy, fits right in with you Potter; maybe they had crucio on him too long." Something in James' eyes softened and he sighed and turned to the mediwitch.

"Can you run the tests Madame Pompfrey, see if he is related to me?" She nodded and went to explore her storage closet of potions.

"Of course he is related to you Potter, he is your carbon copy, well aside that scar and those eyes, and aren't they a gorgeous green, Bella would just eat you up.” A shudder ran through Harry's frame at the thought of being near the insane women. Who knows if that crazy bitch was actually a cannibal?

"Shove off Lestrange, your wife doesn't need any more toys." Pompfrey moved back into the room holding a clear vial in her hands. The potion inside was colorless as well and she held out a needle to James.

"A drop of blood from each of you please." The elder Potter pricked his finger and allowed a drop of blood to fall into the opened vial. The blood diluted in the potion and it turned a flowery yellow. He walked over to Harry and tried to grab his hand, but Harry pulled away from him and curled up with his back to the headboard.

"Harry don't make me put a body bind on you, please." Harry sighed and held out his hand, the needle pricked his skin quickly and soon his blood joined his father’s in the vial. A few shakes and the liquid turned a bright green.

"Green, he is your son James." James sighed and ran his hands through his messy hair, up close Harry could see that his father had crow’s feet starting at the edges of his eyes, and it looked as if he had not shaved this morning, his stubble and hair had a peppering of grey starting to show. And he didn't have a wedding ring on his finger, were they divorced, was his mother dead?

"Is there any way to tell who his mother is?"

"No, this potion can only confirm parentage if I have a blood sample."

"The Dark Lord is not going to be pleased with you Potter; he didn't get a Hogwarts letter, so he isn't a pureblood." The Dark Lord? Why would Voldemort care what his father did? Was his dad a deatheater?

"I swear I didn't know about him Lestrange, what are you sixteen? Seventeen?" Harry nodded dumbly. "That would have been only a few years after I graduated, I was piss drunk half the time, who knows how many girls I was with during those years, and how many I didn't use protection spells with." Wow his dad was with that many people? Why was he drunk, shouldn't he have been in auror training with Sirius and getting married to his mother?

"He has a wand at least, so his mum wasn't a muggle. What is your mother's name boy?" Harry shrugged, and quickly thought of a lie.

"I don't know, I grew up in an orphanage." That sounded good, it wasn't too farfetched.

"A muggle orphanage?" Did wizards even have orphanages, Harry wasn't sure, so he nodded an affirmative to Lestrange.

"Then how did you get a wand, how do you know about the magical world?" Harry had never been very good at lying. It warred with his Gryffindor sensibilities, and right now his lying skills were more below par than usual.

"The owner was a squib." He didn't sound very convincing to even himself, but Lestrange seemed to run with it.

"What orphanage did you go to, that squib should be in Azkaban for getting a wand for a Mudblood." His father was looking at him closely, anger, confusion, but mostly sorrow written across his face.

"I don't remember."

"Bollocks, you just want to protect your lawbreaking squib friend. Let’s see if I can't find what I want by myself. Legtimas!" The way Lestrange pushed into his mind was much different from his lessons with Snape. The attempt was pitifully weak and Lestrange was only able to see a few snippets of Harry running through the entrance hall as he chased after Snape before he was able to throw him from his mind.

"Your little bastard is an occlemens Potter, maybe if the Dark Lord lets you keep him he can help you with the skill."