In His World

Harry woke up feeling emotionally drained from everything that had happened the day before. He had been in this world for only two days, and already he was facing choices that could change his life forever. He closed his eyes against the light filtering through the tall, arched window. Morning sun spilled through the pale curtains. It was so quiet. He could get used to this quiet—after living through the noise of war You have to get up, he told himself. Face reality. No hiding, Harry. No hiding. He got up and went to the bathroom to get ready. He was still wearing yesterday’s clothes—even though they were clearly new—so he needed to change. When he came out, a fresh set of clothes lay folded neatly on the bed, likely left by the house elves while he was inside, again. He changed quickly, then sat by the window, looking down at the garden. It stretched below—precise, formal, lifeless. Much like everything else in this place. He didn’t hear Marvolo enter. “You’re up early,” the voice said quietly behind him, calm but unwavering. Harry turned. “I couldn’t sleep.” Marvolo studied him for a moment. “Understandable. Shall we walk?” They moved through the manor in silence at first, their footsteps muffled against the velvet-soft carpet. Eventually, they entered a sitting room Harry hadn’t seen before—light-filled, with a large desk at the center and papers neatly stacked at its corners. Judging by the documents, this was no ordinary study—it was likely where Marvolo conducted his affairs of state. “I assume you have questions,” Marvolo said as he gestured for Harry to sit. “I do.” Harry met his gaze directly. “About the world. About the people here. About magic.” “Ask.” Harry hesitated, then dove in. “You said there’s no prophecy here. What about the war? Is Dumbledore alive?” “He is,” Marvolo said evenly. “Though long retired from public life. He lives quietly, away from politics. He is not... revered here. Harry frowned. “And the Death Eaters? The war?” “I won. There were casualties, of course, but nothing like your world suffered.” Marvolo’s eyes narrowed. “I rule magical Britain now, which includes the territories of a neighboring country we absorbed. Germany serves as a vassal state, and diplomacy with France is tense but ongoing. The magical world here is tightly controlled.” Harry blinked. “But how is it different? Why is it so different?” Marvolo’s expression hardened. “Long ago, magic-users chose to separate their world from the non-magical. Powerful portals were created—ancient and protected—to keep the magical realm apart. The worlds used to be connected, but the differences grew too great. Magic now inhabits the world within the portals, isolating it.” Harry’s brow furrowed. “So… what about Muggle-borns? Wizards born outside the portals?” “They still exist,” Marvolo said. “But their numbers have dwindled under strict laws. New rituals draw magic inward through the portals, and those born outside are weaker, less connected to the source. Attempts to merge the worlds or break the separation are harshly punished. This world does not tolerate threats to the order.” He tilted his head slightly. “You’ll find many people are not what you expect. Old enemies may be allies. Friends... may not be your friends here. This world shaped us all differently.” Marvolo folded his hands. “You must be careful not to project your memories onto those you meet. It’s dangerous. Dangerous for them. Dangerous for you.” A silence fell between them. Then Marvolo reached into a drawer and pulled out a crisp parchment. He placed it in front of Harry. “What’s this?” “A preliminary document,” he said. “It formalizes your new identity and your status as my spouse. But the paper itself is only the first step.” Harry stared at it. Written in ornate script were the words: Hadrian James Slytherin – Spouse of Lord Marvolo Slytherin “You want me to be a Slytherin now? And a new name too?” Harry asked, voice low. Marvolo looked at him steadily. “For survival. For stability. The name will protect you. The union will legitimize you. But more importantly—this paper alone is meaningless.” He paused. “The true bond is forged through a magical ritual. That’s what anchors you here—legally, magically, and spiritually. Without it, you remain a fading ghost, vulnerable to erasure.” Harry’s breath caught. “As for the name,” Marvolo added, “do you plan to keep calling yourself Potter? When there’s already a Potter family living here? How long before someone asks... and how exactly would you explain it? The moment they question you, the unraveling begins. Taking a new name doesn’t just protect you legally—it gives you distance.” Harry swallowed hard, the weight of the choice pressing down on him. “So this signature... it doesn’t mean anything unless we do the ritual?” “It’s a promise of intent,” Marvolo said. “But the ritual is what will truly root you in this world.” Harry ran a hand through his hair. “And what if I don’t want to be someone else?” “You’re not someone else,” Marvolo replied. “You’re adapting. Call it strategy. Or armor. But clinging to your old identity in a world that never knew it will only hurt you.” “And what about how I feel?” Harry asked, bitter. “What about Ron, Hermione, Sirius...? Am I just supposed to forget everything?” “No. But you must separate them. You must see with clear eyes,” Marvolo’s voice sharpened. “If you treat people here like the ones you lost, you will make mistakes. Dangerous ones. Emotion clouds reason. Sentiment... clouds survival.” Harry stood abruptly, pacing. “So I just pretend the past never happened?” “No,” Marvolo said quietly. “You remember it. But you don’t let it rule you. You are not that Harry Potter anymore. You are someone new.” Someone new. The words clanged in Harry’s mind like a bell. Hadrian James Slytherin. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like him. But maybe... it could be a shield. A name to hide behind while he figured things out. “Fine,” he said at last, voice quiet. “I’ll sign it. But don’t think this means I trust you.” Marvolo gave a small, knowing smile. “I wouldn’t dare.”