2. The Day

April 7, 2001

“Harry, over here!”

Harry Potter turned around to see a pretty girl with long, brown hair waving at him from the kitchen window of the Weasley household. He grinned widely and the girl returned his smile with a brilliant one of her own.

“Oi, Hermione, playing housewife again?” Harry yelled from across the garden. Hermione Granger stuck her tongue out at him and Harry laughed as he jogged into the kitchen. Inside, she was washing the dishes in Muggle fashion, her wand tucked behind her ear and poking out of that large mass of brown hair.

Harry crept up to her and immediately started tickling her sides. She shrieked and struggled to escape. Harry let go and laughed heartily as she chased him around the kitchen, suds flying through the air in her wake.

“Harry James Potter! How dare you lower yourself to such juvenile tactics,” Hermione yelled as she ran into the living room, hot on the heels of Harry. Harry only laughed again in response as he stopped and turned quickly, surprising Hermione. With little effort, he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. She pounded her fists uselessly against his back as he carried her over to the kitchen and plopped her down in front of the sink again.

“Go back to work,” Harry said as sternly as he could. She glared at him and turned around to the sink. He chuckled softly behind her back until he was abruptly sprayed by a stream of water. He stood there as Hermione held her wand and sprayed water until he looked like a drowned dog.

She smiled smugly at him before returning to her work.

“Juvenile tactics, eh,” Harry said as he dried himself off.

“Why are you doing it the Muggle way?” he leaned against the counter and watched her do the dishes.

“Old habits die hard, I suppose. Back home, I always did it the Muggle way. It’s a lot more satisfying,” she responded.

“Only you would find the completion of dishes satisfying.”

“No, it’s the completion of a task that satisfies me. I’d rather not do the dishes,” she smirked.

They bantered witlessly on for a couple more minutes before he heard footsteps from the staircase. Out stepped Ron Weasley. He was still a tad on the gangly side but it was obvious that he had a little more muscle definition since they had left on their gallant trip to destroy Voldemort. His hair was also very trimmed as a result of the rigorous Auror training he had to endure.

Behind him was Ginny Potter. She and Harry had been married for the past year and she smiled as she saw him.

“Hey, Harry!” she said as she bounded over and gave him a peck on the cheek.

“Hello, Mrs. Potter,” Harry returned with a smile. Ginny walked over to Hermione to talk to her and to help with the dishes.

Ron grabbed an apple and tossed it in the air. He caught it on the way down and immediately bit into it.

“Fine day, isn’t it Harry?” he mumbled through his food.

“It’s a right fine day Ron,” he said. The spring had left them with a nice cool breeze and no rain. The sun hung high in the sky and smiled cheerfully down at the two couples within the Burrow. The rest of the family was away on a trip and Mrs. Weasley granted them permission, with restrictions, to use the Burrow. These restrictions, of course, prevented any of them from engaging in more frivolous activities.

“Hermione, why don’t you just use your wand,” Ron said as he munched on the apple.

“I’m perfectly content with washing these the Muggle way, Ron,” she responded haughtily.

“Mental, I tell you,” he whispered.

Harry snorted quietly and shook his head disapprovingly with a smile on his face.

“I heard that,” Hermione said and squirted a jet of water into his eye. The two continued to argue while Harrry sat down and read the Daily Prophet for the day. The headline read “Death Eaters continue to be caught by the Boy Who Defeated Voldemort.” He flipped away from that page and read up the Quidditch standings.

“Oi, Ron! Look at this, your Cannons actually won a game!” Harry said over the clatter of dishes.

“I know,” Ron said smugly, “It’s only a matter of time before they win the Cup.”

“Wait, hold on, it says here that they won by default because the other team’s seeker died of heart failure,” Harry said.

“You take them as you get them,” Ron snapped as Harry shook his head again.

“Poor bloke,” Ginny piped up.

“They reckon it ran in the family or something. The guy was only twenty three years old!” Ron informed them.

“It must have been poison. I’ve never heard of a twenty three year old dying from a heart attack,” said Hermione.

“Well, this might be the work of some Dark fellows,” Harry said. The group turned around to listen to him as he addressed them, “Lately there have been quite a few unexplainable deaths. This Seeker’s only one of them; he got off fairly easily. A few days ago, an old man died from sticking his head in a furnace; he was the only one in his house. Before that, that singer, you know the one Mrs. Weasley always sang?”

“Celestina Warbeck?” Ginny asked.

“Yeah, that one, she hung herself from the top of a ceiling using some Muggle microphone wires! There’s more but I don’t think I have the stomach for it right now,” Harry finished.

“Please stop, we’re about to eat, it’s almost three,” Hermione said.

They all took a moment to digest the recent odd occurrences before the clock signaled it was three just as Hermione said it would be.

“I’ve arranged for us to eat outside since the weather is so nice,” Hermione said. She waved her wand and the tray of neatly arranged food marched behind her in order as she set them in perfect order on the already conjured picnic table outside.

“Remind me to thank my Mom for this,” Ginny said as she ate. Harry and Ginny sat side by side opposite to Ron and Hermione.

“She always did the best cooking,” Ron said wistfully. Hermione glared at him.

“Not that yours is bad or anything, you know,” Ron finished weakly. Hermione pointedly ate her food and did not speak with him for a couple moments.

The four of them enjoyed their food quietly, occasionally talking about the lives of other Hogwarts alumni (I heard Seamus built a pub), the current state of the Ministry (Remus finally pushed that Werewolf bill through), and Quidditch (No, Ron, the Cannons aren’t going to win the cup this year).

As they ate, Hermione asked Harry about the deaths, “Harry, spare us the grisly details; what else do you know about those weird deaths?”

“Well, counting the Seeker that’s six. They’ve all died in some weird or unexpected fashion. Often gruesome, as I said earlier. It doesn’t seem to be the work of any Death Eaters. We checked for the Imperius curse or some Confounding charm but they’ve all checked out. No signs of any poison or hallucinogen in them so your theory has been debunked. They’re all just dying.”

“Who else has died?” Ginny asked.

“The Seeker, the old man by the lake, that singer, the fellow that created the Floo Network, a visiting Professor from Beauxbatons , and head of the Auror division from a few years ago,” Harry counted off the deaths on his fingers.

“No one knows what their about. It’s all a bit strange, really,” Ron chimed in.

“And you’re sure it’s not the work of Death Eaters?” Hermione asked again.

“Well, nothing’s sure, but there weren’t any signs of a struggle or a curse. They all just died,” Harry shrugged, “It’s definitely Dark though. We just need more time to figure it out.”

“We’ll probably have to read through all the books in Hogwarts to figure it out,” Ron joked.

“Those books contain valuable information I’ll have you know,” Hermione contested hotly. The pair bickered for a couple of moments as the other pair ate in silence.

After finishing, they helped Hermione banish the dishes back into the kitchen and Ginny offered to help her when they went back. With a small pop, Hermione banished the picnic table as the four of them gazed towards the hill in the horizon.

“Who knew that one day this would happen?” Ginny asked softly as she leaned on Harry’s shoulder.

“I sure didn’t expect it to happen like this,” Harry responded.

“Me neither,” said Hermione. Ron was silent.

There was a loud snap behind them as they all twirled around to see what the noise was but there was nothing there. The Burrow stood as awkward as ever with the sun hanging directly on top of it.

“What’d you reckon that was?” Ron asked. Hermione and Ginny shook their heads.

“Harry, what do you think?” Hermione asked. There was no response.

“Harry?”

It was 3:23 PM.

*************************************

If you’re lucky, you can catch a snippet of news at this page: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/User:Kwan_Li/Sandbox

I don’t exactly know if that link works so someone can tell me.

The chapters after this one are considerably longer. Consider this the 2^nd part of a two part prologue.

Sorry about Ginny but it’s important.

3. Date Line (I Am Gone)

Harry Potter moaned as he gingerly opened his eyes. The sun was glaring down at him and his throat felt parched. He struggled to sit up but nausea swept over him like a plague. The world swayed beneath him although he was already sitting down and he struggled not to spew the wonderful lunch Mrs. Weasley had left them.

“What happened?” he asked aloud.

He sat up and noticed that it was eerily silent. He was still in the Weasley backyard but there was no one to be seen. It only took a moment before fear overtook him. He struggled to his feet and ran into the kitchen and to the clock that Mrs. Weasley kept. She had added Harry’s and Hermione’s name to the clock ever since Harry got married. Harry knew that Mrs. Weasley secretly hoped that Ron and Herminoe would come around.

He skidded to a stop in front of the clock and looked at it. Curiously enough, all the hands pointed to “home” except for Harry’s hand. It was spinning at a constant speed around the clock. He looked curiously at it, almost hypnotized by the constant circling of his hand. Convinced that the clock was broken he listened for the tell tale noise of the twins or perhaps the clumsy feet of Ron, but he heard nothing.

He bounded up the steps and flung open his door, hoping that maybe Ginny was waiting inside but his bed was empty and neatly made. Panic swept over him. The ridiculous clock really was broken. He immediately went to his bedside drawer to find his wand but it was not there.

“GINNY!”

“HERMIONE!”

“RON!”

Panic overtaking him, he shouted the various Weasley clan members while running up and down the house, flinging open every door but it was to no avail. No one responded. No one was in their rooms. No one was there. Fearing the worst, he retraced his steps from the previous morning to retrieve his wand. Almost an hour later, Harry kicked one of the kitchen chairs across the room. It clattered and finally crashed against the wall, making a vicious dent. His wand was not there nor was anyone else’s.

Maybe they had to leave and that’s why no one was here.

He continued to ponder the several reasons why no one was in the Burrow. He glanced up at the clock again and watched as his hand continued to spin clockwise. He could not figure out why the rest of the hands remained at “home.”

Pacing for several minutes, Harry tried to figure out a plan. He immediately tried to Apparate but nothing happened. Harry had mastered the art of Apparition during Auror training. He focused and tried again but all that he had achieved was to stupidly spin in the middle of the kitchen.

He tried it a couple times before sitting down and laying his cheek flat against the kitchen table. He stared at the dent made against the wall while pondering the various questions running through his mind. One question kept popping into his head though; where is everybody?

He stared out the kitchen window and watched the branches of a large tree in the distance sway back and forth. The soft whir of his hand spinning in that never-ending circle was the only source of noise in the strangely quiet kitchen. He continued to watch the branches sway when he was struck with a brilliant idea.

He bounded up the stairs again and flung open the room he shared with Ginny and went over to his closet. After throwing a few dirty clothes (have to wash that) out of the way, Harry found his precious Firebolt. He gathered his Invisibility Cloak and ran downstairs, Firebolt in hand.

He paused for a moment in front of the clock to make sure that the hands were the same when he left. He stepped outside and kicked off, immediately soaring into the air. The rush of wind in his face was comforting. The silence and solitude discomforted Harry in many ways along with his inability to find his wand. Perhaps they had taken it wherever they had gone.

He flew high into the clouds, often twirling and doing wheelbarrows to let out pent up frustration and energy. He gave a yell as he dove quickly beneath the cloud line before pulling up and leveling off in the direction of the Ministry in London.

Harry flew for quite some time as the sun began to descend in the horizon. It was an amazing color of blood red as it dipped beneath the rolling hills of the countryside and Harry felt a shiver pass through him. He could not tell whether his shiver was a cause of the chilling wind or the blood-like shadows that fell across the land.

In his haste to reach the Ministry, Harry did not see that none of the Muggle cars moved below him. He did not see that there was not a single person walking on the sidewalks. He did not see that there was absolutely no sign of life, human or animal, on the ground.

It grew dark and the only thing guiding him were the scatter of lights below him. He recognized here and there the landmarks that would lead him to his destination but thought nothing of the lack of moving lights that were the trademark of the Muggle vehicles. He thought nothing of the lack of noise. He attributed it all to the height at which he was flying.

He wrapped his robes tighter around him as the air grew colder around him. He felt naked without his wand. His only source of defense was not there and he had to rely on the Invisibility Cloak which had saved him so many times. It was during his long flight that he realized that there were quicker means of traveling.

Floo Powder.

He smacked himself in the head for his own ridiculous stupidity. He could hear Hermione’s voice in his head now, The Floo Network Harry! It would have gotten you there in a second!

A feeling of disappointment settled in Harry’s stomach. He fought to shake it off and focus on his goal. At last, he spotted the tell tale signs of the skyscrapers which lined the sky of London. Several lights were turned so Harry knew it was not yet past the time where no one was at work. He dived quickly into London, fearing the worst. He came to a quiet stop near the dumpsters, eerily reminding him of six years ago when he had come to rescue Sirius. He shook off that feeling and checked to see if any Muggles were around.

There were in fact, no Muggles around. Harry stepped out onto the street and saw that none of the cars were moving. Oh, they were on the street but none of them had their lights on. None of them were moving. Harry could not shake the ominous feelings as he approached a yellow compact car. He looked inside, hoping not to see what he thought he would see.

He had envisioned perhaps a dead body in the driver’s seat. The work of the remaining Death Eaters but to his shock, he did not see anything in the car. For a moment, he was struck by the thought that it would be foolish to leave your car in the middle of the street. That slight moment of incredulity passed as he quickly examined all the other cars on the street. There was no one in them.

The pieces of the puzzle were starting to connect in his head. Obviously, the Death Eaters had taken the Weasleys and perhaps all the Muggles in the surrounding area hostage. He had to warn his fellow Aurors. He leapt into the telephone booth and dialed the magic number. There was no soothing voice this time nor did he receive a badge of duty. Instead, the rickety phone booth clambered down with several clanks until he reached the Ministry floor.

Once again, silence was the predominant noise on the floor. All the Floo stations lay dormant while the guard that was usually present was not there. Once again, he felt oddly reminiscent of the fateful night when Sirius died. He wrapped the Invisibility Cloak around him and walked as quietly as he could towards Auror headquarters.

The dominating statues of the wizard and witch were gone. Instead, equal statues of all races stood in a line, staring directly ahead. It was a sign of equality among the races; a new decree had passed over the Ministry since the fall of Voldemort.

He did not dawdle as he quietly crept into the elevator which led him to Level Two: Auror Headquarters. He kept low and expected enemies but when the lift opened, there was no one there. The desks were empty as Harry’s footsteps remained the lone source of sound as he walked around. He spotted his cubicle next to Ron’s and sat down in the chair, feeling very uneasy.

There was no one here. He stared at the faces of the many Death Eaters he had captured and also at the Death Eaters still at large. Not one of them would be capable of staging such an elaborate plan that kidnapped the whole Weasley family and left not one Auror at his station. There was always one behind in case there was an emergency. The usual whirring of paper airplane sending messages was not there.

Harry leaned forward, his elbows on the desk and rested his chin in the palm of his hand, staring at the picture of Hermione, Ron, and himself. Tears stung his eyes as flashes of Hermione screaming in pain echoed loudly in his head. It was only after a moment did he notice that the figures in the picture were not moving. They stared eerily at him, grins plastered on their faces with Hogwarts in the background. He sat immobile, hoping that the picture would all of a sudden break out into laughter but the Trio continued to stare at him with the same grins on their faces. His eyes looked around his cubicle and noticed that none of the other pictures were moving as well.

Some of the Death Eaters leered at him while others were in mid-scream but they all shared one lonely quality. They were as still as the air around Harry.

“Dammit!” he yelled as he pounded on the desk, causing the picture frame to fall over and sending several leaflets of paper flying around. The feeling of solitude drew once again upon Harry. He had not seen a human being since that loud snap near the Burrow.

He sat up. In his panic and haste, he had forgotten all about the loud snap which distracted him. He replayed the scene in his head. They were staring at the hill in the horizon when they heard a loud snapping noise behind him. He spun around and saw a bright light around the Burrow and blacked out. That was all he could remember.

He replayed the scene in his head, trying to remember if any of them had said anything but the memory was quickly fading from his mind. If only he had his wand. He stood up and began searching the Auror cubicles for a wand. He traveled throughout the Ministry hoping to find at least one wand to extract that memory but it was useless. There were no wands there and Harry was reminded of the fact that there was not a single person in the Ministry of Magic. Once or twice, he thought he saw something but it was only his own shadow.

Someone’s always here.

The mere fact that there was not a single person in any of the levels deeply disturbed Harry. Someone was always at the Ministry. One could always find some sort of representative there because after all, magic does not rest.

He wandered for what seemed like hours, hoping to find a trace of a human soul within the Ministry. Once or twice he wandered past the Department of Mysteries but left the door alone for now. He had not entered that door for six years and he was not going to start now.

The court rooms were empty as Harry visited the courtroom where they had found Dolores Umbridge questioning the Muggle Born. He sat in the very same chair she had sat in and surveyed the court room. The room seemed larger when he sat there or perhaps it seemed larger because no one was settled into the benches. No one sat beside him to record the transcript for the hearing. He stared at the spot where he crouched underneath the Invisbility Cloak nearly three years ago. Harry sighed in exhaustion and frustration. It was nearly midnight and he was in square one again. There was no sign of the Weasleys or Hermione.

Still, Harry explored the Ministry, hoping to find some way to detect his wife and his friends. He wandered into the Improper Use of Magic office and sat down; hoping that a paper airplane would zoom in with a report but none came.

Harry sat down in the Obliviator office, hoping that one would come back and complain about some inept wizard or witch but none came. He wandered into the Head of Transport office, hoping to find some poor bloke who had failed his Apparition test but none came. In fact, there had been no activity in the Floo Network or any use of Apparition since 3:23 PM according to the records.

His stomach rumbled in hunger. He had not eaten since that delightful lunch and that event seemed like centuries ago in Harry Potter’s mind. He laid his head despondently in his cubicle as he thought of where his friends were. Harry wracked his mind, desperately trying to find a reason for the sudden disappearance of nearly everyone he had seen.

He resolved to go out the following morning at first light and seek someone that could explain what the hell was going on. He reminded himself to use the Floo Network if possible and went down to the dining hall to eat food before retiring to a fitful and uneasy sleep

****

Dawn broke over the horizon in a flash of brilliant orange as the sun ascended to it’s rightly place, overlooking the land. There were no birds chirping in the background nor were there any car honks that marked the morning rush hour. Only the shrill of the wind or the creaking of the trees provided any sound.

Harry Potter was dressed in the same robes as the previous day and marked off April 7 on his calendar in his cubicle. He stuffed the picture of the Trio at Hogwarts in his pocket and took the phone booth outside. Hoping to hear the rumble of the car engines or any sort of noise at all, Harry trained his hears for the comforting sound of people.

The sunlight poured into the phone booth as it rose above the ground and Harry was dismayed to see that the yellow compact was exactly as it had been the night before. He cursed softly as he kicked the phone booth several times in frustration. His already witling patience took another blow as the sound of silence greeted him good morning.

Angered by the lack of human life, Harry yelled at the top of his lungs towards the sky.

“WHAT DID I DO? I’VE DONE EVERYTHING EVERYONE HAS BLOODY ASKED OF ME! WHERE ARE YOU?”

His last question echoed like a gong in the buildings surrounding Harry. He could hear his last question being repeated over and over again, assaulting him from all directions. He kicked off his broom and launched into the sky, escaping his taunting voice.

He flew silently over the rooftops and found that it was the same all throughout London. None of the cars were moving. There were no people wandering in their morning commute nor were there any dogs that were being walked. It was empty. For a moment, Harry wondered if everyone evacuated London and clung on to that fruitful thought. He flew around London another time to make sure, sometimes even flying by buildings and checking into the office but it was the same throughout.

As he flew over the river, he was suddenly struck by grief. Exhaustion and depression weighed upon his shoulders and the lack of human contact was driving him insane. He ran a hand through his hair as he sighed exasperatedly. Again, he thought he saw movement but it was only the clouds playing tricks on him. Everything was playing tricks on him at this point, he thought.

Unfortunately satisfied with his trip, he traveled down into the Ministry once again to reform his plans. He took a piece of paper and started sorting the evidence down. He could conclude that London had been abandoned or evacuated. There was no sign of Apparition or any Portkeys since he had blacked out so he concluded that the loud snap and bright light were somehow significant. He continued to write down a list of evidence just as he had been taught in Auror training.

Next, he wrote a series of questions. The first question of course was “Where is everybody?” He wrote as many questions as he could and ended it with one last question, “Where is my wand?” He gathered the papers and stuffed it in his pocket along with the picture. He left a note in Auror headquarters in case anyone became and set off for the Burrow again. Harry moved into his investigation mode. Planning on investigating the scene of his friend’s disappearance, Harry took some Floo powder and tossed it into the fireplace but nothing happened. He tried again but failed.

Maybe I’m not so dumb after all.

After attempting to summon a green fire a couple more times, Harry marked that on his long list of evidence and traveled up to the ground to fly off once again. During his flight, he dipped low once or twice to see if there was any activity in neighboring towns or villages but there was none. He had thought of traveling to Diagon Alley but without his wand to tap the bricks it was useless.

Harry landed after some time in the Burrow and opened the rickety gate. A wash of nostalgia swept over him as he thought of Ginny but he quickly forced it down and focused on the task at hand. As he passed through the kitchen, he noticed that his hand was still whirring softly around the clock. He sighed and set out for the backyard.

****

Thanks for the reviews folks! Keep reviewing!

Poor Harry, if only he could get his wand

4. Hogwarts: A Mystery

Harry Potter stared at the Burrow for quite some time. He stood in the very spot where a day ago he had blacked out. The Burrow looked as normal as ever save for the fact that there were no inhabitants inside. He looked around on the spot and even tried to turn quickly to see if there were effects but nothing happened.

Scratching his head, he looked at the Burrow again. He looked around until he was reminded that no one else was there. He shrugged and quite awkwardly collapsed on the ground. He lay there, staring at the passing clouds. The sun was shining high and bright as the winds twirled the few fallen leaves in mini twisters.

The usual grumbling of garden gnomes was absent along with any sort of artificial noise. Occasionally, the wind would gain speed and a rush by Harry’s ears to create a sort of wind tunnel but other than the occasional gust of wind there was no noise.

He sat up and gazed at the Burrow, wondering what in Merlin’s name that bright light was. He scratched his head and started speaking to himself. He could remember the bright light and how it seemed to swallow the Burrow with its intensity but nothing more. He munched quietly on one of the apples that were in the basket.

“At least there’s plenty of food here,” he said to himself, “I reckon Ron would be quite happy about that.”

Another wave of solitude swept over Harry. If only Ron were here to joke about Harry’s predicament. If only Ron were here to lighten the mood and say, “Look on the bright side. No more reports, right?”

If only Ron could keep him company while he searched for his wife. For a moment, he wished that Ron was here so he would at least have someone to share his solace but he quickly pushed away that thought. At least he wouldn’t have to deal with being the only person in Britain, he thought bitterly. Harry finished the apple and chucked it away as far as he could as he released some of his pent up frustration again.

But what if they are here? What if the Death Eaters have taken them?

Harry shuddered at the thought of Death Eaters torturing his friends. He was nearly confident that it was not Death Eaters. They were nowhere near powerful enough to usurp the whole Ministry of Magic much less make everything in existence disappear of the face of the Earth.

Still, there was something amiss about this whole situation and Harry could not place his finger on it. He had to find some way to contact anybody.

Concluding that there was no other evidence to collect at the Weasley household, Harry went upstairs to find his trunk. He collected a spare amount of clothes since he doubted that there was anyone to care about his appearance.

Since Harry did not have the ability to shrink any items, he had to pack carefully. After several minutes of consideration he had neatly packed away three sets of clothing, two different robes, his Sneakoscope, his Invisibility Cloak, his Standard Auror Field Kit, and a several photos of his wife and his friends.

He lugged the trunk downstairs making as much as noise as possible in an attempt to drown out the predominant silence in the Burrow. He stared at the horrid clock for a moment.

“Wherever you guys are, I hope you’re safe,” he muttered.

He hesitated but eventually stuffed the clock in his trunk as well. Walking outside, Harry set his trunk and broom down and took one last look at the Burrow. For some strange reason, Harry felt that after this day he would probably never see the Burrow again.

He closed his eyes and felt the wind on his face. In the distance, he could hear Fred and George bellowing at Ron to throw the gnome farther. He could hear Mrs. Weasley fussing over the state of Ginny’s robes and Mr. Weasley tinkering in the garage with Sirius’ unused motorcycle. He pictured the whole Weasley family and Hermione in the kitchen table, laughing and exchanging jokes over delicious food and Pumpkin Juice. He imagined Percy coming home, complaining about the injustice of the Wizarding World and how Hermione would heartily agree with him. He could imagine looking at his wife and smiling at her while Bill and Charlie regaled the family in their exploits around the world.

He opened his eyes and saw the Burrow leering at him, taunting him with memories. Harry was having a hard time swallowing as he stared stonily at the only other place he really called home. His feet felt rooted the ground and he could not take his eyes off the lopsided building where he had first met his wife.

Sighing, Harry finally turned around and mounted his broom and chained his trunk to the back of it. It was a little heavier than usual but he doubted that there would be any need for evasive maneuvers in the air but just in case, he had planted a locator beacon on the trunk.

He gently floated in the air and took one look back at the lopsided house and could have sworn that he saw Hermione’s face in the kitchen window but he knew better than to check for sure. He let the wind swallow him into their air as he set off for his destination; Hogwarts.

****

Harry had fallen asleep during the long trip to Hogwarts. It was only now that he could fully appreciate the comfort of the compartments in the Hogwarts Express. He followed the train tracks as long as he could, unwilling to sleep for fear of losing track. During one particularly straightaway stretch, he allowed himself to veer slightly off course to investigate the number of small villages that littered the countryside.

Every now and then he would see a wagon rolling and hoped to see a driver but it was only the wind fooling him. Twice, he stopped to eat whatever was available in the bakery. It was during one of those stops that he saw a large statue of himself.

Since Voldemort’s defeat, there had been many statues of Harry that had been erected and he had seen to nearly all of them, but he never spotted this one. The statue was deadly accurate even to the scars that Harry had from the Gringotts heist.

His wand was pointed high in a mock salute and for one silly moment, Harry saluted to himself with a wiry grin. He could hear Ron’s voice in his head, if that isn’t self-admiration, I don’t know what is. He chuckled to himself before setting off.

The sun was setting with the same strange, blood red color. He could not help but stare as the sun descended over the horizon and the moon rose in the other. Amazed, Harry watched as several yellow lights blinked in the distance. He rubbed his eyes but concluded that it was not Hogwarts. The lights were turning on in their own accord.

A glimmer of hope passed through Harry before he realized that they had done the same the night before on his way and into London. Nonetheless, Harry softly pushed the handle of his broom down and landed softly in the cobble streets of an unnamed village.

Nearly all the lights in the stores were on and the streetlamps casted shadows behind him as he walked through the town. It was very similar to Godric’s Hollow. He remembered how Hermione had led him through the village in a rare moment of normalcy during their hunt for Voldemort.

Harry smiled as he reminisced over that rare moment before he heard a loud crash. Instinctively, he pressed himself against the closest wall out of the bright light of the streetlamp. He had left his trunk where he had landed.

Foolish.

He shook his head and trained his ears for any sort of noise but it was silent once again. He crouched and squinted through his glasses in an attempt to see if there was any movement. His heart beat not only with fear but with a glimmer of hope. It had been a long time since he heard any sort of artificial noise.

Slowly, he crept towards the store where he had thought the noise originated. It seemed to be some sort of postal store and the lights were turned off inside. After safely making sure that nothing was moving inside, he ran quickly back to his trunk and fetched his Invisibility Cloak and checked his Sneakoscope. It was dormant between the folds of his robes.

He approached the postal store again and opened the door as quietly as he could. In his eagerness to go inside, he did not see the chimes attached to the top of the door and jumped when they clashed together. Surely, whoever was inside would now be alerted to his presence.

He pressed himself as tightly as he could into a corner and waited for the inevitable investigation of the chimes. Holding his breath, Harry felt his hear hammering against his chest and absentmindedly pressed his hand against it in an effort to still his beating heart.

Move.

Crouched in the ground in a sort of semi-shuffle, Harry looked around the two floors of the postal store before concluding that no one was there. Sighing, he apprehensively took off his Invisibility Cloak and for a fleeting moment, hoped that some sort of jinx would fly past him but none came.

He approached the source of the disruption and found an ancient-looking photo album spread face down on the floor. Harry crouched over the item in question and poked it with his foot. He flipped it over but found that all of the pages were inexplicably blank.

Befuddled, Harry picked up the photo album and examined it at several different angles but found nothing out of the ordinary. Perhaps, it was on the verge of falling and Harry’s arrival triggered its fall, he wondered.

Coincidental.

Harry shook his head again before picking up the leather bound photo album and investigating the store one last time. Finding nothing strange in his second scan, Harry exited the postal store with the photo album under his armpit and checked one of the nearby clocks. It was nearly midnight and Harry would have to fly fast to arrive at Hogwarts.

Shoving the photo album into his trunk, Harry pushed off and flattened himself on the broom, urging it to go faster. The trunk whipped around behind him, flailing like an awkward bird in its first flight. He was surprised to find Hogwarts peeking over the horizon in short time and with renewed energy, he burst off in direction of his new home.

During his approach, Harry noticed with a pit in his stomach that the Whomping Willow lay dormant and unmoving. Harry flew by the tree, hoping it would make a swipe at him but it remained still as stone. Throwing caution, literally, to the wind, he approached a branch and poked it with his foot. The Willow did not respond as he thought it would and Harry hung his head with disappointment.

“I would think that Hogwarts of all places would remain immune to this anti-magic jinx,” he muttered to his Firebolt.

Landing neatly and his trunk in tow, Harry was surprised to find the main doors open and hoped to find at least one familiar face, even if it was Filch, within the walls of Hogwarts. He turned right into the Great Hall and was surprised to find the torches were lit with him as he walked.

Grinning, Harry took hope that there was still some sort of magic within Hogwarts. He turned around and leapt up the stairs, two at a time and looked up, hoping to see the staircases changing directions. He gave a shout as one of the staircases groaned and allowed Harry to run to the Headmaster’s room.

The gargoyle had already stepped aside and Harry ascended the spiraling staircase to the Headmaster’s office. He flung open the door, breathing heavily and excited by the small displays of magic. Inside, Harry was crestfallen to see that the portraits were frozen in mid-action. Phineas was actually in midstride on his way, no doubt, to Grimmauld Place and Dumbledore seemed to be talking to another portrait.

Harry approached Dumbledore’s portrait and ran his fingers across his beard. Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes shined down on Harry even in this desperate moment.

“I’ve always needed your help Professor. What do I do now?” he whispered.

Dumbledore did not reply, however, as Harry had hoped but stood with a half grin, talking to some invisible friend off in another portrait. Harry sat himself down in the Headmaster’s chair and ran his hands through his hair in grief.

He had counted on Hogwarts to produce as always but all he could see were the numerous portraits of Headmasters. Even Dumbledore’s fancy machines were no longer whirring as they usually were.

It had only been some years ago when Harry sat opposite the desk in the chair usually reserved for students. Fury swelled within Harry as he wished to take his anger out something. Anything. Just as he had done six years prior, Harry picked up the non-moving instruments littered in the Headmaster’s office and smashed it on the ground. He continued with his unneeded assault until he collapsed on the ground.

The office was littered with bits and pieces of the silver instruments and Harry brushed tears away as he fought the sickeningly depressing loneliness that threatened to overtake him. Exhausted once again, Harry did not bother did not bother to rise from his slumped position as another fitful and uneasy sleep overtook him.

***

The sun shined against Harry’s spectacles the following morning. Disoriented by his unfamiliarity with his surroundings, Harry raised his arm to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun. He looked around and a rush of memories tore into Harry. He stared at the bits and pieces of the instruments which he had attempted to break. His stomach growled impatiently with hunger as he had not had a bite to eat since late afternoon of the previous day.

Grumbling, Harry walked to the portrait and tickled the pear to find himself with an inordinately large amount of food for one person. Harry gobbled the food in a matter of minutes. The days seemed to stretch into long periods of travelling interrupted by the occasional bite and the eventual feeling of disappointment.

As he ate, he bounced a question around in his mind.

What about the creatures?

Surely not even the Death Eaters could remove all of the magical creatures in the world. House Elves had some of the most powerful and mysterious magic in the world yet none were serving him Pumpkin Juice for breakfast. Harry could not fathom what sort of mysterious magic had been cast over the land.

For a brief moment, Harry pondered the possibility of Voldemort interfering from the grave but waved it off. Harry pondered what to do next as he bit into a loaf of bread. He needed to figure out why everyone had disappeared and where they were. Surely this was not an elaborate prank by George.

He drank the last of his goblet and proceeded to unpack his trunk and for a moment, he could not decide where to sleep. After some thought, he decided to sleep in the 7^th year dorms. The magical staircases swung according to the direction Harry wanted as he stopped in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady.

Shrugging, he simply opened the portrait and entered. It was the same as he remembered. Although there was neither a fire nor people, the plush cushions were comforting as Harry lay down on the couch and stared at the high ceiling.

As he stared at the ceiling, he was struck by the improbability of the situation. There he was, sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room, apparently the only person in Britain. He started laughing and after several moments it erupted into a full brown bellow. His laughs echoed and bounced off the stone walls but it contained neither amusement nor optimism. It felt hollow.

Tears leaked from his eyes as he continued laughing maniacally but eventually it dissolved into sobs as Harry wailed his injustices into the now drenched cushions of the couch. Sobs racked his body as he fought to contain the little composure he had left.

“Oh, what the hell. No one’s here to see me anyways,” he grumbled into the cushion.

Get up.

Harry wiped tears off his face, ashamed at his childish behavior. He was twenty one for Merlin’s sake; he was not supposed to be sobbing his heart into the cushions of a couch.

He approached the windowsill and opted for brooding quietly while watching the landscape. His eyes were unfocused as he pondered the many questions roaming his mind. There was a dulling pain in the back of his head from the sheer amount of information he attempted to process.

At last, Harry resolved to use the resources in the Hogwarts library in order to glean the necessary information regarding the disappearance of every living being. Perhaps he was under some sort of a spell and he would have to be awakened by drastic measures. Harry would investigate that possibility at another time.

As he hopped off the windowsill, he spared one more glance at the Forbidden Forest.

“Not so Forbidden now, are you?” Harry said aloud.

In the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of purple. His head snapped to the locale where he had seen the flash and he stared, holding his breath for several moments, hoping yet at the same time not hoping he had seen what he thought he saw.

For a moment, Harry swore he saw the velvet purple robe littered with stars and Dumbledore’s haunted blue eyes peeping out from underneath his hood.

5. Doppelganger

Harry Potter stood transfixed at his spot beside the window. He stared at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, not daring to believe what he saw. Blinking rapidly, he gasped as he saw the slightly hunched figure wrapped in a velvet purple robe.

Dumbledore is dead.

There was no explanation however for the ghostly figure on the edge of the forest. It was quite some distance away but Harry could not mistake the blue eyes that stared at him unequivocally from the shroud of the hood.

Horrified, Harry watched as the figure’s arm stretched forwards until a gnarled, deformed hand poked out from underneath the stars and pointed directly at him. Harry wrenched himself from the window but could not help himself as he spared one more glance towards the figure.

It cocked its head in an odd sort of manner, slightly resembling a humming bird before the figure glided back, without turning around, into the forest.

“What kind of sick game are you playing at,” he whispered.

Harry was aware that he was shaking uncontrollably as he held his hand up and watched it reverberate constantly. The warmth he had felt from entering the Common Room was extinguished by the ice that spread through his veins.

“That’s impossible, no one can come back from the dead,” he said to himself again, not realizing the irony.

Improbable but not impossible.

Harry shook his head before turning around and gazing at the forest. He remembered the ethereal events which occurred a little over three years ago in the very same forest. Could it happen another time, he wondered.

Abandoning all pretense of caution, Harry sprinted down the staircases and ran full steam across Hogwarts grounds to the Forbidden Forest crying out, “Dumbledore!”

Not bothering to remind himself that Dumbledore’s white tomb remained untouched since Voldemort’s disruption, Harry burst into the Forbidden Forest and rotated around the spot where he had seen Dumbledore. He gazed around frenetically, hoping to see a glimpse of purple or a flash of blue eyes.

You’ve lost it now; you’re looking for dead people.

Harry smacked his head, hoping the voice in his head would shut up for just a moment. A flash of purple caught his eye again. There Dumbledore stood, still standing high in death. It stood, unmoving, in the middle of several bushes.

“Who are you?” Harry yelled.

The figure cocked his head in the same manner again, almost looking curiously at Harry. For a moment, Harry swore that the blue eyes flashed into red slits but as he blinked, the same curious blue eyes stared at Harry.

It did not answer Harry but instead glided backwards again in the same manner. It avoided trees and bushes as it glided further and further into the heart of the forest. Harry followed carefully, not carrying anything except the clothes on his back and the courage that marked him as Gryffindor.

Further and further, Harry followed the figure into the forest until he reached a vast clearing with a small lake. The figure stood still at the edge of the water, his blue eyes now unable to seen underneath his shroud. Harry could still make out the grisly hand slightly poking out from underneath the purple robe.

He stood there for quite some time, staring at the figure.

“Who are you?” he repeated.

The figure’s head moved ever so slightly and spoke.

“I am you,” the voice croaked in a hoarse voice, quite unlike Dumbledore’s.

Harry blinked and the figure transformed into Dumbledore in his majestic blue robes. He smiled kindly and spoke, “Harry, my boy, how are you?”

“N-n-n-o,” Harry stuttered, stumbling backwards.

The figure morphed into a laughing Ron, “Harry, you’ve got to see this, the Cannons won!”

Harry continued to stumble backwards until his back hit the trunk of a tree.

Now Hermione stood in front of him, “Oh Harry! I’ve missed you!”

“Hermione?” he whispered. The Hermione in front of him nodded and Harry reached out his hand but quickly retracted it as the figure transformed again.

Sirius now stood in him, standing proudly in jet black robes. He spoke, “Godson! I’m so proud of you.”

“You’re dead…” Harry said in a strangled voice.

So is Dumbledore.

“Is anyone ever really dead?” Lupin said with a laugh. He winked at Harry before the figure whirled and there stood Ginny.

“Harry, come to me,” she said with a sympathetic smile. Harry could hardly believe his eyes; his wife stood in front of him with her arms outstretched, beckoning him to hug her.

Harry stepped forward and reached out his arm to touch her cheek. Just before he made contact, the figure changed into Tom Riddle. He stood there, unblemished and just as handsome as he had left Hogwarts nearly a quarter of a century ago.

Riddle winked and whispered tauntingly, “What’s wrong Harry? Cat got your tongue?”

Harry blinked and there was nothing more. He whirled in the spot, looking for any sign of whatever that thing was. He stood there blinking rapidly as he slowly panned the lake, hoping to find some sort of explanation for the recent events.

“I’ve gone crazy,” Harry said wide eyed.

Who says you weren’t crazy in the first place?

“Who’s there?” Harry whispered, not daring to believe what he had heard.

Always questions, never answers.

Harry crouched and spun on the spot, looking for the source of the voice. It was around here somewhere and he would track it down. Harry believed that the voice was definitely a Death Eaters trying to break him. In his mind, the people he saw were not ghosts.

“If you would come out, we could talk,” he yelled into the Forest.

We’re already talking.

Harry whirled around again, desperately training his ears for the taunting voice. Harry peered around the forest before stepping to the edge of the lake, still wary of the voice. As he stared into the water, he recognized that he had been to this place before.

Harry’s head swam as a wave of nausea passed over him. It took him a moment before he recognized how he knew this place. For a moment, Harry forgot the taunting voice and delved into his own memories.

“Harry, we’ve been over this ten thousand times,” Hermione said as they made a lap around the lake.

“Just because you defeated Voldemort does not mean they’re going to give you any preference when you apply for the Auror Academy.”

“Well, if you say so. I don’t want to get into the Academy just because I took down some overly arrogant jerk,” Harry joked. Harry smirked as the corners of Hermione’s lips twitched upwards as she tried not to laugh.

“I’m being serious Harry,” she stopped to address him face to face with her hands on her hips, “I’ve talked to several prominent Ministry remembers and they told me they are going to exclude that little tidbit where you defeated Voldemort.”

“So am I, I want to get in because of my scholastic aptitude,” he said with a serious face but with a twinkle in his eye. Hermione’s jaw dropped open and she retaliated by shoving him in the chest. Harry’s arms wind milled as he tried to stop himself from falling into the lake but failed miserably.

He spit out water and saw Hermione bent over laughing at his plight. The water was lukewarm as it was the end of their 7^th year at Hogwarts. Spitting out more water, Harry pointed at her and said, “Oh, very mature.”

She continued to laugh and said, “Get up here and I’ll dry you off.”

“Here, give me a hand,” Harry said.

“Oh no, I’m not falling for that,” she took a step back and repeated her previous statement.

Harry shrugged and winked at her as he waved his wand, “Wingardium Leviosar.”

Hermione shrieked as she was lifted into the air and dropped into the water besides Harry.

“H-h-h-arry James Potter,” she stuttered with water in her mouth, “you’re dead.” She shot a mild tickling jinx at him but he deflected it deftly and responded by sticking his tongue out at her.

“Oh, good one Harry, very mature.”

“Have a little fun Hermione, we’re done with school!” Harry laughed as he splashed her with water.

“Expelliaramus!”

Harry’s wand soared to Hermione and she caught it with a smug look on her face.

“Who has all the wands now…Potter,” she used his last name to mock him. Harry stared at her with his mouth hanging open before running towards her. Hermione shrieked playfully before bounding as quickly as she could out of the water.

Harry gave chase as Hermione dried herself off and ran around the lake. Finally, Harry caught up to her and heaved her over his shoulder.

“Let me go you brute,” she pounded on his back.

“Give me back my wand,” he set her down.

She frowned for a moment in mock seriousness before breaking out in an enormous grin and handed his wand to him.

Harry laughed and filled with affection for the girl that stood beside him all the time, he grabbed her by the hips and twirled her around in the air. There was happiness in Hermione’s eyes as she half heartedly pleaded for him to let her go. He set her down after a few twirls and gave her a hug.

As they withdrew from each other however, their heads were at strange angles and for a brief moment, his lips brushed the corner of her lips.

They froze in mid-embrace, unwilling to stare at each other. Harry was still dripping wet from his fall into the lake as shuffled his feet, waiting for her to make the first move.

As usual, Hermione spoke up, “Um, you’re still wet.”

“Oh, heh, yeah I am,” he chuckled nervously and dried himself off with a spell.

“We should probably go back,” Hermione said with a forced smile.

“Oh, yeah, of course. Let’s go,” he said. He walked away from her with a deep blush and did not look back until they reached the gates of Hogwarts.

Harry was snapped back into the real world as he heard a voice behind him. Slowly he turned around until he was face to face with Ginny.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me Harry?” she asked with a sad look on her face.

“I-i-i-t was an accident,” he stuttered weakly. Ginny shook her head and started backing away from him.

“No! Wait!” Harry implored. He blinked and Ginny was gone again and all that was left was the crystal blue water of the lake.

Cheater.

“NO I’M NOT!” he bellowed at the voice, “NOTHING HAPPENED.”

Oh really? Tell me you didn’t like it.

“T-t-hat’s not true,” Harry whispered in horror, no longer looking around for the voice but staring horrified at his reflection in the lake. For some unknown reason, Harry had crawled over to the lake until he was peering down at it.

As he stared at his reflection, another face peered around Harry’s shoulder. It was his own face peering over his shoulder. Harry turned around and stared in disbelief at the doppelganger.

“What’s wrong Harry? Cat got your tongue?” the other Harry smirked.

Harry shuffled backwards on his feet, splashing the water, as he stared, slack-jawed, at the other Harry. He shut his eyes and tried to will away his copycat but when he opened his eyes, he was staring directly at his own emerald orbs, not inches away from his face.

“Wow, we’re really alike!” other Harry said.

“This is impossible,” Harry said.

“I told you already. It’s improbable. Nothing’s impossible with magic,” other Harry said in a taunting voice.

Harry shook his head and he was oddly reminded of Hermione’s warning in his 3^rd year, what would you do if you saw yourself?

”A little scrawnier than I would like,” other Harry grumbled as he examined himself.

“I certainly don’t feel big,” he remarked crudely.

“Who are you?” Harry repeated for the umpteenth time.

“Really, Potter, if you don’t know who I am then you’re a lot thicker than I thought,” other Harry remarked.

“At least, I think so. Then again, if you were originally that thick, that would mean that I would be even thicker. I don’t know, Potter, the metaphysics of this thing boggles even me so let’s just start with this tiny fact. My name is Harry Potter. Just like you,” he said with a low bow and an exaggerated sweeping of his arm.

“But-“ Harry started, confusion overriding his main feeling of abject horror at this point.

“Look, let me make this easier. What happens when you split a large pumpkin?” other Harry asked.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off by other Harry.

“Rhetorical question. You get two of them. So quite obviously, I am your handsomer, faster, and obviously-“ he gave Harry a look of disdain, “-smarter but nevertheless split personality.”

Still disoriented, Harry was struck by a sudden idea and hurled a rock at the other Harry. He vanished in an instant and Harry gave a small sigh of relief.

“Very mature Harry,” other Harry mocked from behind him.

The real Harry shuffled around in the water again, unable to escape the seemingly invincible doppelganger. Harry quickly wracked his brain for possible escape routes because, frankly, that was the only thing on his mind.

“Trying to run again are you?” other Harry asked as he blew on his fingernails and examined them against the sun.

“I’ve never ran from anything in my life,” Harry growled, a bit of the old fire in him returning.

“Honest assessment,” corporeal Harry spoke as he lifted himself off from a tree, “Although, if you’ve never ran from anything then that would imply you fought everything that has come your way, which, let me tell you, is highly dangerous.”

Other Harry now paced around Real Harry, walking on the water, “Anyways, for the sake of argument, let’s say I’m wrong about your instinct to run. Now, you’ve never had trouble hiding have you? That Invisibility Cloak of yours has gotten you out of more jams than your scrawny fingers can count.”

“How are you walking on-“ Harry said.

“-the water?” Other Harry finished. Harry looked curiously at him and Other Harry responded, “I’m in your mind.”

“Potter, I’m a figment of your imagination or rather corporeal being summoned by your subconscious to deal with your inevitable insanity,” Other Harry said frankly.

“I’m not going insane,” Harry said stubbornly.

Other Harry opened his mouth and repeated in the same tone of voice what Real Harry had said earlier, “I’m going insane.”

“So contrary to fact, you do think you’re going insane.”

Harry still stared disbelievingly at the figure standing on water beside him.

“Listen, Potter, you don’t have to believe me if you don’t want to. I’m just warning you before you resort to more drastic measures or Merlin forbid, summon more wretched creatures out of your troubled subconscious,” Other Harry said solemnly.

“Trust me, I’m not bringing you out again,” Harry said. He felt utterly ridiculous, talking to his supposed subconscious, but there had been stranger events in the life of Harry Potter.

“Why did I bring you out?” he asked Other Harry.

“Beats me,” Other Harry shrugged, “You’re the one with the real mind here.”

“But-“ Harry said, but the doppelganger was gone. Harry crawled back to shore and collapsed on the pebbles, more confused at this moment than at any point of his hectic life.

His heart throbbed with pain and his mind spun, trying to absorb what had happened. He could neither bring himself to accept the world around him nor his own supposed insanity and resolved to end this madness.

***

Harry stumbled through the forest, hearing voices from all directions. He struggled to close his mind as Snape had instructed him to do so but he could not escape the voices.

Maybe it’s because we’re in your mind.

Harry gave a yell of desperation as he smashed his head into a tree. Blood poured from the fresh gash but Harry did not care as he walked in a drunk like trance back to Hogwarts. Cuts were forming where he brushed against the thorns and branches but Harry only dragged himself forwards.

His mind was spinning from the voices whispering in the trees and he kept looking over at his shoulder at his invisible attacker.

“Have to – get rid – of them,” he said in between gasps. Blood dripped in his wake from all the open wounds in his body as he smiled maniacally when he spotted the tall towers of Hogwarts.

He tripped over a rather large rock and felt pain radiate from his knee. Harry howled in pain but limped on, unimpeded by his injury.

As he entered Hogwarts, he saw brief flashes of random people walking through the halls. He spotted Luna skipping down the first staircase and giving him a wave. Fred and George hustled past him with a large bag labeled ‘dangerous.’ Dean, Seamus, and Neville walked by him, roaring at some hilarious joke.

He ascended the staircases, sometimes leaping from one to another despite the throbbing in his knee. At last he reached the top of the Astronomy Tower.

Blood fell from the new gash in his forehead, splattering on the ledge below him. The wind blew through his hair as he looked at the Forbidden Forest once again. He spotted the velvet purple robe with stars on the edge of the Forest once again. It was looking at him, the red eyes burning into his heart.

He swayed slightly as he glanced at the ground below him. The different emotions surged from Harry as a tear, mixed with blood, fell from the ledge and down on the ground. Sobbing and smiling at the same time, Harry inched forward until only the balls of his feet were on the ledge.

“I’m sorry Ginny,” he said to no one in particular.

He leaned forward and closed his eyes. He felt his body pitching forward and let go of the adjacent wall that kept him balanced. The wind howled furiously around his body as he passed the point of no return.

No.

Harry’s eyes snapped open, but he had already let go of the walls. His body lurched forwards but at the last second, he tilted himself sideways and jumped.

He caught hold of the flag on the flag banister and hung on for dear life.

Rip.

The flag ripped underneath his grip and Harry furiously clambered to grab the pole. Just as the last thread tore from the main flag, Harry reached the pole. He hung there and slowly rotated until he was facing the ledge again.

He swung forwards, trying to achieve a pendulum-like movement. Back and forth he swung until he released at the apex of his movement and latched on the ledge. He pulled himself up with great effort and fell onto the stone floor of the Astronomy Tower.

Harry Potter lay there in a mix of blood and tears, just minutes after his attempted suicide.

***

Leave a review for the poor fellar!

Harry’s really gone off the edge now has.

I wonder how everyone else is doing?

6. Rita's Theory

September 7, 2004

Harry Potter twirled his wand between his fingertips as he read about the October Revolution in Russia during the 1920s. A strange new cult had risen (not unlike Voldemort) to challenge the Ministry in Russia ever since their involvement in the Great Muggle War.

Harry continued to flip the pages of the incredibly large book labeled ‘Wars and Rebellions.’ Neatly stacked piles of books lay on either side of Harry on the long Hogwarts library table. The books continued further and further and eventually changed into rows and rows of yellow parchment

The top of one yellow parchment was poking out from the rest and the name read ‘Amos Diggory.’ The Hogwarts library was littered with bundles of these yellow parchments with the same heading across the top: Ministry Files.

Harry Potter muttered to himself as he read about the October Revolutions. Outside, the weather remained as stellar as always. Nearly twelve seasons had passed since Harry’s conception into this barren world yet the weather remained as magnificent as always.

The sun rose and set at the same time and it neither rained nor snowed during all of Harry’s time here. The trees were abundant with leaves as the usual fall maelstrom of dead leaves did not pass. Harry Potter had noticed the unusual lack of poor weather but of course, it did not bother him greatly since it was already included in the already long list of unusual things in this abnormal world.

Harry scribbled on a piece of parchment beside the book. The piece of parchment was filled with Harry’s tiny handwriting was scribbled in all different directions. Some words and phrases were underlined and circled but the top of the paper was dominated by one question, ‘What is this place?’

Closing the book of warfare, Harry opened another book titled ‘Of Higher Forms and Lower Forms.’ He placed his wand down to run his hand through his disheveled hair, pausing slightly to touch the other scar along his hairline.

He paused for a second to stare at his wand, lying innocently on the table as if absolutely nothing was wrong with the world.

Harry walked through the hallways of Hogwarts with a crudely formed cane and a slight limp. The resonance from the cane striking the floor echoed through the empty corridors as Harry approached the Room of Requirement.

Although he was skeptical in probability of success in this situation, nothing could be left unattended. Harry limped back and forth three times, focusing on what he wanted exactly. The door did not materialize however as it had previously done.

Harry walked miserably back and forth six more times before staring at the stone wall. He took his cane and poked it a couple of times and frowned as nothing happened.

Disappointed with the results, Harry stepped away but not before he heard the stone crack. He turned around and smiled for the first time in several days as an archway revealed itself. He quickly limped and opened the door with a soft push of his hand.

Instead of the usual high ceiling room, there was a dark room with a low, sloping ceiling. There was a plain brown crate on the far wall with an object lying on top of it.

Harry’s wand was the lone object lying on top of the wooden crate in the cramped, dark room of the Room of Requirement. Harry gasped at his good fortune and quickly hobbled his way toward his wand. He smiled as the familiar warmth spread through his body as he picked up the wand.

“Lumos,” he said.

The wand, however, did not cast the usual bright light. Harry’s smile slowly slid off his face as he attempted various spells, all with no effect. Harry’s stomach lurched with disappointment again at the failure of his wand.

He was frowning at the useless brown stick before he had a strange idea.

“Point Me,” he whispered.

The wand whirled and pointed in the opposite direction of the Room of Requirement. Excited, Harry stepped out and watched as the wand suddenly twirled in another direction. He followed it through Hogwarts, his heart beating faster and faster with each step he took.

The wand led him out into the grounds of Hogwarts and he did not look up as he waited for the wand to change direction. It did not change however but kept in one course and Harry marched on.

Harry looked up to see where the wand was pointing and stopped for a moment as he saw the direction it was pointing. It was the same path he had taken that horrific day nearly three years ago.

His wand kept pointing the direction of the lake within the Forbidden Forest and although Harry had not revisited the locale upon which he had discovered his insanity, there was no stopping him now.

Harry bravely walked on, his shoes cracking the branches and twigs as he recognized the beaten path. He walked deeper and deeper into the heart of the forest until he was at the same clearing. The wand signaled that he needed to keep walking forward.

Slowly, Harry waded into the water, his wand still held in the palm of his hand. He sloshed his way through the water until he was about chest deep when the wand suddenly started spinning in place. It spun in a clockwise direction, and Harry was perplexed on the sudden change of the wand.

He looked around and deduced that there was no one by himself. Shrugging, Harry dipped his head underneath the water to examine the murky bottom of the lake.

He looked around for a moment before he saw the flash of silver deeper into the lake. There was something mesmerizing about the silver figure on the murky bottom. Harry surfaced to take a quick breathe and started swimming to the silver statue.

The statue was nothing but the head of an average looking girl. Harry gazed upon the statue with a smile on his face. He reached out and touched the statue’s bronzed hair and ran his eyes over her eyes. He was mesmerized by the long hair and defiant look on her face.

His lungs were burning and his muscles aching but Harry continued to caress the head of the girl with a nostalgic smile on his face. Harry stared right into her eyes and he could feel the pressure of the lake squeezing his body together.

He felt his lungs clamoring for air and his eyes sting from the salt and mud in the water but he cared not. For a moment, all there was in the world was Harry Potter and this beautiful girl. Harry closed his eyes as he accepted the cold slumber and attempted to place himself eternally besides the statue but it was not to be.

Harry snapped his eyes open and gasped as if he were a fish out of water. He breathed heavily as he snapped himself out of his second attempted suicide. He had not revisited the treacherous lake ever since that day. There was something mysterious about the placid lake, but he did not intend to find out after the two events which took place there.

He shut his book and walked over to the Ministry Files. He opened the first folder and started reading aloud.

“Jo-“

He coughed as his voice croaked from misuse. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“Joan Finnegan. Mother of former Hogwarts students and now Independent Owner Seamus Finnegan,” Harry read aloud, “Former Muggle Husband killed during Death Eater escape from a fight with the Order of the Phoenix. Graduate of Hogwarts.”

“Hey James, take a look at this!” Harry yelled aloud.

A corporeal figure, which looked exactly like Harry, strode through a wall to peer over Harry’s shoulder at the picture and description of Seamus’ mother.

“Well no wonder she hated you…us,” James said.

“I guess she blamed the death of her husband on the Order. Still, that’s got nothing to do with me,” Harry pondered.

“Well, you were kind of the head of Light. Hero of the World. The Chosen One. The One to Bear the World’s Burden. The Last Hope of Light. The One Boy to Rule them-“

“I get it.”

“Point is you were the head figure of the Order, even more so sometimes than Dumbledore. I suppose that’s why she blamed you.”

“I guess you’re right, James,” Harry said dejectedly.

“Of course I’m right. I’m always right and I’m not even exaggerating. I have to be right because I’m in your subconscious. Don’t get too sad though mate, she’s not here to whine about it,” James said cheerfully.

“Thanks,” Harry said dryly.

He flipped the page over and continually read aloud with James interjecting at some of the more interesting people.

Harry continued this process for a couple more hours before eating some of the food from the kitchens and retiring for the night.

This process was how Harry Potter spent most of his days during his time here. Accepting the need for company, he often called upon his split personality on occasions when he needed to talk to someone. Since he was more than a striking resemblance to himself, Harry had named his doppelganger James after his father. He was aware that he was talking to himself but even the illusion of company kept Harry from attempting another suicide.

Just before he fell asleep, Harry was swept into another one of his now frequent flashbacks.

Harry floated through the air on his Firebolt, his palm held upwards with his wand floating above it. There was an ominous fog that blocked even the sun that surrounded Harry. His wand was currently spinning in a clockwise direction again as Harry flew aimlessly through the air.

The wand snapped in a certain direction and Harry turned the handle of his broom to right his course. He flew slowly, careful not to miss anything but all he could see was the fog and the sea below him. He dived low, hoping to escape the fog but it followed him all the way to the surface of the water.

At last, there was land in sight and Harry sped forward but found himself on the same bluff where he had started his escape.

Another one of Harry’s plans to escape the depressing world had failed.

So with that unfortunate memory in mind, Harry Potter fell into another one of his restless nightmares.

***

Harry Potter: Boy Who Defeated the Dark Lord or Boy Who Wishes to be the next Dark Lord?

September 7, 2004

It has been over three years since the sudden disappearance of the person that rid the world of the Dark Lord Voldemort.

Harry Potter.

Harry Potter has not yet to be found nor has there been one credible sighting. Although there have been a deluge of tips in order to gain the record One Million Galleons for the discovery of Harry James Potter, most of have been vague sightings with little follow up.

Investigation by the Auror Department, lead by Head Investigator Ronald Weasley, have been fruitless as the interrogation of all known and even suspected Death Eaters have yielded no useful information. Weasley has been questioned more than once by yours truly, Rita Skeeter, for his sometimes brutal methods of interrogation. More than once, the Death Eaters have exited the interrogation room harmed and unconscious.

When asked to comment, Ronald Weasley aptly told me, “Go to hell.”

As you can see, tensions run high when it concerns his beloved friend.

But what about his other beloved (and sometimes more) friend? Hermione Granger, rising employee in the Department of Law Enforcement, has worked for three years to find any trace of Harry Potter. The bright but admittedly dressed down Witch has been reported to work for nearly sixteen hours a day in her search for her best friend.

Of course, I, Rita Skeeter, have always wondered if her heavy work load symbolizes her love for Harry Potter. It was not so long ago when I, Rita Skeeter, reported from Hogwarts the growing relationship between Ms. Hermione Granger and Mr. Harry Potter.

Although Harry Potter married school sweetheart, Ginny Weasley, four years ago, I, Rita Skeeter, have always stood by my stance that there is more than meets the eye concerning Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter.

Reports from Potter’s great adventure to rid the world of the Dark Lord have indicated that Ms. Granger and he spent quite some time alone on the run. One has to wonder; what happened during that time? We may never know as the only eye witness refuses to comment about their activities during that mysterious time.

Obviously, Harry Potter’s friends miss him and according to the Aurors, there has been no information gleaned from the multiple (some reports indicate that one Death Eater has been interrogated nearly one hundred times) interrogations.

What do I, Rita Skeeter, conclude then?

Harry Potter has disappeared of his own accord. In an exaggerated publicitiy stunt, Harry Potter staged his disappearance to focus the Wizarding world on him once again. Perhaps he was aware that his time in the spotlight was fading since his defeat of Lord Voldemort. Perhaps he hoped to gain the attention of his fellow Hogwarts peers and remind them of his greatness.

Nonetheless, we can all conclude that his disappearance has hurt many lives.

The most painful of which was his dear wife, Ginny Potter. Not three days after his disappearance, Ginny Potter jumped from the tallest tower of Hogwarts School. Although we dare not speak of the reason, the world knows that his sudden disappearance drove her to immeasurable grief.

I, Rita Skeeter, was one of the first to discover her body several hundred feet below the Astronomy Tower, an almost peaceful look on her face.

Her death took a toll on mother, Molly Weasley. Molly Weasley is the mother of two dead children, an earless twin, and four other surviving children. At Ginny Potter’s funeral, Mrs. Weasley dissolved into tears and laid herself across Mrs. Potter’s coffin, begging for her life to be taken.

Mrs. Potter’s tomb can still be visited during regular hours for timeless photos.

Without any corroborating evidence from Death Eaters, we can conclude that Mr. Potter’s disappearance was staged and not the work of Death Eaters. I, Rita Skeeter, implore my readers to tear down the illusions of his greatness. His publicity stunt caused the death of his wife and now Mr. Potter is afraid to show his face.

I brought this theory up with a couple high ranking officials in the Ministry and not two days before, Mr. Potter has a warrant for his arrest for the murder of Ginny Potter and her unborn child. Yes, my readers, her unborn child.

It is horrifying the extent that one could go for popularity but this situation embodies every occurrence in history of ambition. Mr. Potter has set himself out to be famous no matter what.

One must ask; Why?

I, Rita Skeeter, will tell you why Mr. Potter has done this dastardly deed. He wishes to become the new Dark Lord.

One can see the ramifications of this process. His yearning for the Dark Arts has always been shaded thanks to Albus Dumbledore, but the truth is now revealed.

Reports have indicated that Mr. Potter has attempted the Unforgivable Curses three times and has succeeded twice. All know that those who cast the Unforgivables are automatically sent to Azkaban (now guarded by Ministry officials). Harry Potter, due to his God-like status, was granted immunity in the face of danger but new reports indicate that his use of Unforgivables was completely unnecessary.

Harry Potter also studied the application of Dark Arts excessively, such as the creation of Horcuxes (used by the former Dark Lord) and the mastery of the Deathly Hallows (attempted by Albus Dumbledore). Although the explanation for his revival from death has always been his ‘sacrifice’, one cannot help but wonder at what lengths Harry Potter went for immortality. What drove him to survive even death?

Here is the answer.

He wanted to be the new Dark Lord. He wished to overthrow Lord Voldemort and I, Rita Skeeter, believe that one day he will return as Dark as ever.

I do not wish to be there in that time.

Article Written By

Daily Correspondent, Rita Skeeter.

***

-Thanks a lot for the reviews! Keep them up!

-Date Line (I am Gone), Chapter 3, is a song with relevant lyrics. Surprised no one caught onto that.

-RIP Ginny, but she’s not done yet.

-Did you really think Harry was going to be welcomed back with open arms?

-Numbers are important. Use them wisely.

-I also like books.

7. Dead or Alive

July 30, 2007

Harry Potter was packing several items into his trunk. His hair was nearly shoulder length and looked more than slightly unkempt. A slight beard had formed around Harry’s face, curled and tangled from neglect.

He walked over to his desk and neatly folded a letter into a small envelope marked ‘Anyone.’ He paused for a moment to look at the envelope and tucked it in the pocket of his robe. Pulling out the leather bound photo book, Harry extracted a crumpled photo out of his jean pocket and taped it on the cover.

There was one more item on the table besides Harry’s bed. Mrs. Weasley’s clock lay face down, unturned since his voyage into the lake. He held his hand over the enchanted clock, almost unwilling to turn it around in fear of its contents.

At last, his fingers grasped the edge of the clock, its mahogany surface filled with dust. The dust fastened itself on Harry’s fingers and floated idly away from the disturbance of human contact.

Harry’s eyes watered, but he knew not whether it was from the dust or his own emotions. Apprehension flittered through Harry as he stood motionless, his hand grasping the edges of the clock. There was a rush in Harry’s blood as he quickly turned over the clock.

He frowned as he saw that his hand was no longer moving in that constant clockwise direction. Instead, it was slowly flicking back and forth between ‘Home’ and ‘Mortal Peril.’ Harry cocked his head, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration over the change in oscillation.

The soft tick of the clock was the only noise in the room as Harry watched the hand swing back and forth like a pendulum.

“What do you make of this, James?” Harry pondered aloud.

James appeared beside him instantly, “It seems Harry that you have a choice between life and death.”

“That choice was robbed from me a long time ago James. It was only the matter on whether I had the fortitude to do what is right,” Harry said darkly.

“Ah, but didn’t someone tell you once between choosing what is right and what is easy? Popular opinion shows that you are about to do what is easy,” James said in a patronizing voice while circling around Harry.

“Tell me James,” Harry said as he stared at the oscillating hand, “What’s the point of doing what’s right if you’re the only one alive.”

“Because there’s always that one sliver of hope that you’re not the alone Harry. Trust me, I know it’s there, because after all I am your sub-“

“-conscious. I know,” Harry said as James vanished from sight. Harry had grown angry with James and all of a sudden another doppelganger walked in through the door. He had the same features as Harry but his hair was slicked back and combed over, giving it a slightly greasy look. He had no spectacles and his face was in a constant sneer.

“Potter, ready to go off yourself then, are you?” the doppelganger spoke.

Harry ignored the rude but nonetheless truthful comment. The doppelganger walked towards him and patted him with fake genuineness on the back.

“I know what you’re about to do is difficult Harry. Merlin knows you’ve gone through Hell,” the doppelganger said solemnly. Harry did not see him smirking behind his back.

Harry refused to speak once again but looked out the window into the solemn forest. There was a flash of purple that caught his eye, but he refused to be baited. Today, his actions would be of his own accord.

“Oh Potter, trying to grow a pair now, aren’t you? Afraid your itsy bitsy mind can’t handle it anymore?” the doppelganger taunted.

Harry did not speak, but he knew the doppelganger spoke the truth. It might have been just a grain of truth but it was there nonetheless. The little hope he held onto was slowly unraveling lie an old Weasley sweater.

“Don’t get sentimental now. Just finish it already,” the doppelganger said before leaping out of the window in a mock suicide and giving Harry a wink as he toppled over the edge and vanished.

Harry, eerily calm, placed the clock with his other belongings in his trunk and heaved it down the staircase of the Gryffindor Common Room. Each bang of the trunk colliding with the staircase echoed tenfold in the empty domain.

The soft clatter of Harry’s footsteps was followed by the trunk’s squeaky wheels as they crossed the Hogwarts entrance. Harry paused for a moment to look at the Great Hall.

His head swam slightly as he heard the general uproar associated with the Feast. He could practically smell the treacle and Pumpkin Juice and the crowd fall silent as Dumbledore rose to spoke. He opened his eyes and looked until he found his usual spot with Hermione and Ron.

Harry walked over to the benches and sat down with his hands folded in front of him.

“Ron, I know I haven’t always been the best of friends sometimes. Sometimes. Sometimes, I would take you for granted and expect you to be on my side. I didn’t mean to be an arrogant jerk but it was just so hard sometime. No matter what, though, you’ve always been there. Always ready to jump in with me. Always ready to make us laugh,” Harry said softly as he addressed the invisible Ron on his left.

“I just wish you were here to do this with me Ron. It hasn’t been easy. I’ve seen things. I’ve read things that I don’t want to know about and no one has been here to take the seriousness out of it. James can only do so much; he just ends up reflecting what I’m really thinking. It’s become too much Ron. I’m sorry.”

Harry turned to his right and plead, “Hermione, please understand. There are no answers! I tried! I really did! I looked through every single book I could find. I combed the library just like you would!”

Harry was near tears and his voice was cracking.

“There’s nothing here Hermione. None of the books I’ve read mentions anything about making everyone disappear. I even looked through Dumbledore’s entire library, Hermione. I didn’t want to read some of the book, but I had to. There are no answers Hermione. I needed you; I needed all of you, not these stupid books. Please forgive me, Hermione.”

Harry was finally silent, his hands cupped, pleading to the invisible Hermione. As always, no one responded to Harry. The halls of Hogwarts were as silent as ever in the wake of his confession.

A fire boiled inside of Harry at the lack of response and he looked up to see the figure in the purple shroud staring at him from the faculty table.

The blue eyes had long been replaced with two tiny red slits which pierced through Harry’s mind. It stood there, completely unmoving, and simply staring at Harry.

Harry stuck out his chin defiantly and spoke, “It ends today.”

***

Harry flew furiously to the Burrow, his trunk waving wildly behind him. He had flattened himself against the broom in an effort to decrease the surface area and increase his speed. His hair flew in a tangled mess above his head as he spotted the teetering house in the distance.

It had looked no different than when he had left it three years ago. Harry pressed his broomstick downwards in a death dive before pulling up and landing softly, his trunk toppling to the ground behind him.

He quickly wrenched the trunk from the ground and dragged it behind him in a half jog to the Burrow. He flung opened the door and did not pause to see if the Weasleys had miraculously returned. He traveled upstairs to his room and quickly placed all the items in their original places. He made sure as to put them in the exact space where he had left it.

He tucked in an item into the pocket of his robes and headed downstairs to the kitchen. He placed the clock on the mantle again and paused briefly to watch his hand oscillate back and forth between ‘Home’ and ‘Mortal Peril.’

Without removing his eyes from the clock, he placed the envelope labeled ‘Anyone’ on the kitchen. It stood out like a store thumb against the wood, impossible to miss; just as Harry had wanted it.

He took the photo album and walked over to the lone bookshelf in the Weasley’s house. He spotted the last Weasley photo album and placed it right besides it as a reminder of the events that had transpired in the past six years, three months, and twenty three days.

With a swish of his robes, Harry strode purposefully outside onto the hill where he had first appeared in this haunting world. The sun hung as high as ever in the peaceful azure sky.

He faced the Burrow and took the item out of his robes. In Harry’s hand was a small, black pistol. He had longed learned that Muggle items still worked. Although he was unsuccessful in contacting anyone via internet (the struggle to turn on the computer had been harder), he had nonetheless attempted to fly out of England; it had the same results as flying with a broom.

Harry expertly slid out the magazine to check that there were two bullets. He slid it back in place and cocked the gun in an almost habitual manner. Harry had not confined his reading to simply Wizarding books. The underestimation of Muggles has long since plagued the Wizarding world, but Harry was not so naïve.

Harry breathed heavily, his nostrils flaring outwards as sweat fell from his head. The gun felt slippery in his sweaty palms and he felt as if he had been lit on fire. Heat flushed his face as he clicked off the safety and held the gun to his head.

He spotted the figure on the top window of the Burrow, usually resolved for the ghoul. He was no longer shrouded in purple but now in black. Harry’s eyes made contact with the red slits and fury possessed him.

There was a gunshot as the bullet smashed through the window and made contact with the figure in black. The shroud rippled where the bullet had struck it near the place where the heart was supposed to be. The shot was shockingly accurate but the figure stood there as menacing as before.

Despair closed around Harry, his inability to kill the damned creature ripping him into shreds. His resolved strengthened as he set the gun barrel against his temple and closed his eyes.

Harry felt blissfully at peace for a moment as his finger closed around the trigger. He could hear the trigger squeak as it neared the powder that would ignite the bullet. The blood roared in protest in Harry’s ears as he opened his eyes to take one last look of this world.

Harry watched a leaf float across his line of vision, dancing expertly in the air. His sweat felt cool against his skin; his heart was calm. He could hear his breathing become slower and slower and slowly closed his eyes, accepting his fate.

Harry heard a bang.

Darkness enveloped around Harry as he slipped away from the world.

***

Harry unexpectedly opened his eyes.

He was at the Burrow again.

For a moment, he lay in the bed of dead leaves, pondering his state of living. He did not feel as if he were dead. He sat up and noticed that a half crescent moon was shining brilliantly against the night sky.

A rush of blood flew to his head as he looked around the Burrow. He could make out the lopsided house just some feet away from him but it was too dark to see anything else. Once again, he crunched the dead leaves to stand up. As he stood, Harry paused.

Dead leaves.

He slowly knelt to the ground in amazement and swept up the golden brown leaves and wiped it against his face, embracing the smell of mortality.

Harry crunched the dead leaves slowly in his hand, grinning maniacally and gazing around the Burrow. Through the darkness, Harry could see that the grass had grown to almost knee-length and that there were pieces of Muggle machinery lying around, no doubt from Mr. Weasley.

“I’m back,” Harry smiled and rushed into the kitchen. The kitchen door burst open with a bang as he looked around hopefully.

The lights were turned off and there appeared to be no one around. Not losing hope, Harry hopped up the stairs two at a time and wrenched open the door to his room, expecting Ginny to be waiting inside on her desk.

Once again, the room was dark and looked as if it had been undisturbed for quite some time.

“HELLO!” he yelled as he raced around the house, desperate to find someone. No one responded as Harry opened and closed all the doors in the Burrow.

Too bad no one’s here again.

“SHUT UP,” he roared, “THEY’RE HERE!”

Sure they are.

The voice was silenced as Harry flew down the steps and landed in the kitchen, gasping and clutching the stitch on his side. He pulled a chair out and collapsed, his head resting on his folded arms.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the tell tale grey of the Daily Prophet and pulled it towards him. His eyes blinked as he read the date on the very top line.

July 30, 2007.

His heart raced at the implications of the publishing of the newspaper. His mind only rested on the date for a brief moment before reading the main headline and absorbing all the information. He had started grinning when he read the date but it soon fell to a brooding scowl.

HARRY POTTER STILL AT LARGE: WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE

Harry quickly spread through the article; he saw all the reference to the Dark Arts. As he continued to read, panic swept upon Harry again. He was being charged for the recent flurry of crimes rampaging around London. In-depth details and reports were being filed against him, some of which containing actual reported appearances of him.

Flipping open the pages, Harry was quickly making a checklist of the things he needed to do. The details of the crime reports were so vastly in-depth that revealing himself without taking certain precautions would certainly almost be fatal.

He stuffed the newspaper in his robes for future reading and charged upstairs again. Although he was unsure what remained in his former bedroom, he had to take a chance.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he found that his trunk was still intact within his closet and surprisingly, all of his remaining possessions were there except for the Invisibility Cloak. Quickly stuffing the other assorted items, not unlike he had done so at another time, Harry closed his trunk with a soft click and leaned back on his haunches to ponder the whereabouts of his Cloak.

For a moment, Harry thought that his wand would still be on the bedside table, but he was disappointed to find it missing. No doubt the Ministry had confiscated his wand if he was deemed ‘armed and dangerous.’

His Firebolt lay against the wall and he picked it up and trudged downstairs. He sat his trunk against one of the couches and went back to the kitchen to retrieve one more time. He had not begun to cross the threshold when he heard the sound of a key fitting into a lock.

Harry watched as the doorknob slowly turned and instinct took over as Harry quickly pressed himself against an obstructing wall. He heard the door creak open and footsteps pound against the doormat, removing the dirt from the underside of the shoes.

There was a rustle indicating that the person had hung their coat and Harry quickly decided that the person was most likely male from the sound of the shoes and the jacket. There was a slight jingle and Harry watched as a balding, red head made its way to the kitchen, his back turned to Harry.

Mr. Weasley immediately started to prepare a cup of tea while he leaned against the counter, rubbing his forehead. Sighing, Mr. Weasley walked around the kitchen, paused for a moment and then returned to the teapot.

Don’t show yourself.

Harry heard the voice inside his head, but he had a feeling he was not going to heed its advice. Harry waited until Mr. Weasley was making his way to the stairs when he stepped out of the shadows.

“Mr. Weasley,” he said softly.

Mr. Weasley’s shoulders immediately raised in tension as he slowly spun on his heel to face Harry, his teacup halfway to his mouth.

“Harry Potter,” Mr. Weasley barely whispered. They stared at each other for what seemed like ages; Harry was unwilling to make the first move.

Mr. Weasley’s suddenly snapped out his amazement and Harry could see the tell tale signs of anger as he stood straight and his eyes danced angrily. Harry watched as Mr. Weasley dropped the teacup and roared, “YOU!”

Shocked by the turn of events, Harry opened his mouth to plead with Mr. Weasley but out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Mr. Weasley reached for his wand. He felt the newspaper against his chest and was reminded of the current state of events.

Faster than the aging Weasley, Harry stepped forward and jabbed his hand upwards, striking Mr. Weasley’s wrist. The wand fell to the ground, and Mr. Weasley howled in pain as Harry twisted his arm behind his back.

“Please, Mr. Weasley, I don’t want to hurt you. You have to believe me,” Harry pleaded. Mr. Weasley, however, continued to struggle, but he was unable to overcome the stronger man.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Weasley,” Harry said sadly.

With a swift chop, Harry knocked Mr. Weasley unconscious. He heaved him by his armpits over to the couch and laid him down. He picked up Mr. Weasley’s wand but thought against it. He did not want to provide Mr. Weasley with any more incentive to attack him again.

Take the wand you stupid boy.

“No,” he muttered mutinously.

It’s the only chance for our survival!

“NO,” he said loudly. He tucked Mr. Weasley’s wand into the older man’s hand and doused the lights, not wanting to attract any attention to the Burrow until at least sunrise when Mrs. Weasley would undoubtedly find her husband with a bump on the back of his head.

Hermione’s voice echoed in his head again as he prepared to Apparate. He knew that his Apparition would trigger a magical trace that would lead the Ministry to the Burrow. He wrestled with his decision to fly but decided against it. There was too much risk of someone spotting him in the sky.

The three years of Auror training were resurfacing in Harry’s brain as he quickly decided the best course of action. He dragged his trunk across the backyard and into the forest behind the Burrow. He walked quickly until he heard the rushing sound water crashing against tiny rocks. He quickly dumped its contents into the river along with the trunk itself and watched as it floated down the river.

Pulling the cloak tight around him, Harry started walking and quickly did an inventory of his remaining items. The newspaper. He laughed bitterly at his plight as he trudged on, heading in a predetermined direction.

Harry needed to find people that would trust him. He needed to find people that would always trust him. He needed Hermione and Ron.

***

Reviews please!

Sorry for the long update, busy week.

His removal from the alternate world is not coincidental.

The Ministry did not confiscate his Invisibility Cloak.

The line between real and imaginary is still blurred in Harry’s mind.

8. You Don't Know

“Harry Potter!” an excited woman said as she walked to an abandoned looking phone book.

“You don’t say?” her husband asked.

“They say that he was spotted at the Weasleys! Look, its right here,” she pointed at the front headline of the copy of the Daily Prophet she clutched in her hand.

“I always liked the bloke,” the husband said.

“How could you have possibly liked this murderer? Just because you went to school with him,” she admonished.

Her husband peered over her shoulder to look at the considerably young picture of Harry Potter. They bickered for a couple of moments as they made their way to the phone booth. As they approached the booth, they noticed a homeless man in gray drabs sifting through the garbage.

The husband wrinkled his nose while the wife looked absolutely horrified at the prospect of searching that waste for food. As they were about to enter the phone booth, the homeless man fell with a sick thud and lay unmoving in a spatter of beer bottles.

The wife looked worriedly at the husband but said, “Let’s just go.”

The husband stood rooted there for a moment before he said, “You go on ahead, and I’ll be right behind you.”

She opened her mouth to protest but he quickly waved her off. Her eyes flittered from the homeless man to her husband before acquiescing with a slight nod. Her husband watched as she disappeared out of sight before walking towards the homeless man.

“Excuse me, sir, are you alright?”

The man lay unmoving on the ground, still sprawled across the litter of beer bottles. The husband gingerly approached the man in gray drabs, deftly avoiding the sometimes broken bottle necks. He reached out for the man’s shoulder.

The man in gray suddenly came to life, twisting the husband’s hand awkwardly and forcing him on his knees. As the husband reached for his wand, he heard the soft click of a gun cocking. He froze, knowing quite well what the sound was.

“Listen closely Dennis, I’m not going to hurt you if you just follow what I say. I know you’re a Muggle-Born so don’t pretend like you don’t know what’s in my hand,” the man whispered quickly in his ear.

Dennis nodded ever so slightly; fear running through his veins as he sought for a way to escape. He was ushered behind the dumpster as the man patted him down and took away his wand.

“Now, I’m going to let you turn around because I have to ask you some questions. Don’t yell or else I will be forced to shoot you Dennis,” the man said in a slightly threatening tone.

Dennis nodded and slowly turned around and gasped as he saw the flash of green eyes. Although he looked quite different from the photo in the Daily Prophet, there was no doubt it was Harry Potter who was pointing a gun at Dennis Creevey.

“Harry Potter,” Dennis whispered in awe. Harry looked surprise at the tone for a moment before his face hardened and he spoke.

“I need to know where Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger are,” Harry interrogated.

“R-R-Ron Weasley still works in the Auror Division. He’s the head now, but you should kn-“

“Shacklebolt?” Harry asked.

“Minister now,” Dennis said.

Harry raised his eyebrows ever so slightly before continuing his interrogation.

“What should I know?” Harry asked.

“H-H-He’s about to be sacked because he refuses to work on your case,” Dennis stuttered.

“What’s this rubbish about my case Dennis? Why are they after me?” Harry pressed.

“B-B-Because you’re the one behind all the attacks recently! T-T-They say you’re the man behind the curtains!” Dennis continued to stutter nervously.

Harry’s eyes narrowed in anger as he did not speak for a moment. Dennis continued to regard him nervously but grew less and less afraid with each passing moment. It appeared that Dennis had a revelation of sorts when he spoke again.

“If you’re the one behind everything, why are you threatening me with Muggle weapon posing as a homeless man?” Dennis pondered.

Harry did not answer him as the thoughts ran rampant in his head. The silence was unsettling for Dennis who feared that he might have greatly angered Harry.

“Has anyone actually seen me though?” Harry asked.

“Well, no. It’s just the reports say th-“ Dennis said confusedly.

“Who writes the reports?”

“Rita Skeeter,” Dennis said quietly, knowing the implications of revealing the writer.

Harry’s eyes narrowed again as the gun fidgeted in his hand. Dennis eyed it warily, hoping Harry would not burst in a fit of anger and shoot him at that spot.

“Even if she wrote them, why do people believe her? After all, I’m the – I mean – I killed Voldemort,” Harry countered.

“That was almost a decade ago Harry. Added to the fact that no one had previously seen you since you had disappeared-“ Dennis reasoned.

“Disappeared?”

“You disappeared on April 7, 2001 Harry. I reckon I’m the first person to have you seen your face in about six years,” Dennis fidgeted.

“If you’re the first person to have seen me, why did Mr. Weasley try to attack me last night? What happened to all my friends, all the people I fought with?” Harry asked with growing irritation as the gun pressed against Dennis’ chest.

“P-P-Please Harry, don’t shoot me, I have a wife now,” Dennis pleaded under Harry’s furious stare.

“So do I,” Harry punctuated each word with a jab of his gun.

“You-you-you don’t know,” Dennis eyes widened in amazement as the puzzle pieces quickly fell into place in his head. Harry, on the other hand, was as confused as ever.

“Don’t know what Dennis? What don’t I know?” Harry pressed.

“Harry, your-“ Dennis was interrupted by his wife’s voice.

“Dennis?” his wife’s voice echoed in the small alleyway.

Harry quickly crouched behind the dumpster and eyed Dennis warily.

“Go to her, say you helped the man out and go straight to the Ministry. Do not warn anyone Dennis. I can shoot both of you from this spot,” Harry threatened.

Dennis paled considerably in the face of Harry’s threat and nodded eager to get away from the crazed individual. Harry held out the wand and Dennis took it, his hand shaking. Dennis straightened his robe and stepped out from behind the dumpster to greet his wife.

Harry watched as his wife admonished him for taking an excessive amount of time and felt a slight pang of jealousy. He needed to find Ginny as well. Harry continued to watch as Dennis led his wife assuredly towards the phone booth. At the last second before he entered the booth, Dennis looked over his shoulder and caught Harry’s eye.

As soon as the booth disappeared out of sight, Harry immediately started running, throwing the gray drabs off of his clothes and pulling a hat over his disheveled hair. Underneath the gray drabs, Harry was wearing what looked to be a jogger’s outfit. He slowed his pace and kept his head ducked as he jogged away from the Ministry of Magic, melting into the growing crowd.

***

Harry leaned against the brick wall facing the Leaky Cauldron, his head kept low and his face hidden by his hat and long hair. He was carefully watching the different cars that parked in front of the Cauldron, hopeful that a wizard, most likely Muggle-Born by their mode of transportation, would walk inside the Leaky Cauldron. His eyes scanned the passing automobiles as he held a copy of a Muggle newspaper. The headline read ‘War Looming’.

“Look at you, Potter. Despicable now,” a voice said behind Harry.

Harry did not need to turn around to know it was one of his alter egos. By the tone of the voice, he deduced that it was the slimy haired doppelganger that had confronted him before he left Hogwarts. He stood still as he addressed it.

“Can’t you just go away,” Harry asked in fake politeness.

“Potter, you’re stalking Muggle-Born Wizards and you’re’ about to take the next one hostage. Tell me, who does that sound like?”

“Spare me the monologue, I already know I’m not him,” Harry said in a bored voice.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t go down the same road,” the cocky doppelganger said.

Spinning around to scold him, Harry found that no one was behind him. He was briefly reminded that he was speaking to a seemingly corporeal version of his conscience and that it was ridiculous to expect that anyone would be behind him. Berating himself for his stupidity, Harry resumed his stance and kept an eye out for any cars.

At last, a small, grey car stopped near the Cauldron and the passenger disembarked before the car blended back into traffic. Harry was surprised to see the man take out a cellular phone and speak into it for a couple of moments.

Filthy Muggle-Born.

Harry shivered violently at the sound of the slimy voice and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. Tucking the newspaper underneath his armpit, Harry approached the man with his head ducked down. As he approached the Muggle-Born, he noticed that the man was neatly dressed in an expensive looking pinstripe suit and freshly polished shoes.

Deducting the man was certainly well off, Harry quickly formed an attack plan in his mind as neared the Muggle-Born. Quietly slipping behind him in the Leaky Cauldron, Harry kept his head low and avoided Tom the Bartender.

Instead of directly following the Muggle-Born, Harry crept along the adjacent wall and timed his steps so that he would fall directly behind him as they excited the Cauldron and emerged into the portal to Diagon Alley. Harry held his breathe as he passed dangerously close to a pack of hags, brushing his shoulder against one of them.

The Muggle-Born walked out of the door and Harry gave a quick look behind to check if anyone else was coming. Coming to the conclusion that he had enough time, Harry approached the Muggle-Born from behind pressed the barrel of the gun into the man’s neck.

“Shhh…don’t do anything stupid,” Harry cooed. Harry could see that the man was considerably nervous and saw his right hand twitch.

“You know just as much as I do that I can pull the trigger faster than you can get your wand,” Harry whispered in the man’s ear menacingly. Harry felt a twinge of guilt at his cold nature but quickly fell back into character.

“As long as you do what I say, everything will be alright,” Harry said in a slightly softer voice, hoping the man would acquiesce and not put up a struggle. It was important to gain access into Diagon Alley without activating any Magical Traces. Harry instructed him to tap the bricks and he watched in slight amazement as the bricks spun and twirled until he saw the shops of Diagon Alley emerge into view.

Diagon Alley was flourishing in the demise of the Dark Lord. Inhabitants crowded the cobble steps as shops, old and new, were open to all magical folk. Harry moved closer to the Muggle-Born, making sure that the gun was tightly pressed into the man’s ribs. He pulled his hat farther down his head as he recognized a few faces.

“What’s your name?” Harry asked as they walked to Eyelops Owl Emporium.

“Stein Winkstein” the man said in a think German accent.

“What are you doing all the way in London, Mr. Winkstein?” Harry asked casually as they approached the smelly doors of the Owl Emporium.

“Business in Gringotts,” Mr. Winkstein said gruffly, obviously uncomfortable.

“Well, if you stay quiet then you’ll be able to get to that business, Mr. Winkstein,” Harry said politely as they entered the store. Tiny mops of hair roamed around the busy store; the kids were eager to buy their first owl. Harry felt a knot form in his stomach. Had it not been so long ago when Harry had first purchased Hedwig?

“Pick an owl, a very regular one and pay for it,” Harry commanded. The man immediately picked an ordinary brown owl and paid for it with shaking hands. The woman at the register was so preoccupied that she failed to notice Harry by Mr. Winkstein’s side.

“Good, two more things.”

“I don’t want any trouble, Sir,” Mr. Winkstein said roughly to Harry. Harry simply jabbed the gun further into the other man’s ribs to prove his point. Mr. Winkstein awkwardly walked out of the store and into the direction of Madam Milkman’s Robes for All Occasions.

Along the way, Harry saw a group of Aurors clad in official blue robes passing out flyers to anyone passing by. Harry felt Mr. Winkstein jerk forward in a subconscious reaction to escape, but Harry twisted the other man’s wrist awkwardly and pressed the gun further into his ribcage.

Mr. Winkstein gasped in pain and buckled slightly.

“No, no, no, don’t you dare. Go by the Aurors and pick up one of the flyers. If you indicate that you’re being held hostage, I’ll shoot you and the Auror you tell first. Don’t want that on your conscious now do you, Mr. Winkstein?” Harry said in a quiet and confident voice. Inside, he was quaking with terror as they neared the Aurors.

Mr. Winkstein took a flyer with no problem and handed it to Harry. Harry was surprised to see that Mr. Winkstein was slowly catching on to Harry’s wishes. Harry did not Mr. Winkstein to be too comfortable so he resolved to end this matter quickly.

He read the headline of the flyer.

HARRY POTTER SIGHTED NEAR MINISTRY. PLEASE REPORT ANY APPEARANCES OF HARRY POTTER.

Harry was shocked to see a sketch that was not unlike what Harry currently resembled. The long hair and slightly disheveled beard was spot on, and Harry cursed himself for not Obliviating Dennis Creevey (despite his lack of a wand). Tucking the flyer into his tattered robe pocket, Harry continued frog marching Mr. Winkstein to Madam Milkman’s store.

“If anyone asks, I have horrible skin disease that doesn’t allow me to see light,” Harry whispered furtively. Mr. Winkstein looked at him incredulously before inspecting a couple of dark robes. Harry picked a black robe with a large hood and walked with Winkstein to the register. Harry held his breathe as he hoped that Mr. Winkstein would not reveal anything. For emphasis, Harry was nearly stabbing Mr. Winkstein with the gun.

“Hello Sir, will that be all today?” Madam Milkman asked.

“Yes, that’s all,” Mr. Winkstein said in a shaky voice. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Madam Milkman give Mr. Winkstein a slightly perturbed look but said nothing.

“Will your friend be getting anything?” she asked politely.

There was a pause as Mr. Winkstein was silent. Harry knew that Mr. Winkstein was contemplating revealing his kidnapper.

“Sir?”

“No, that’s all for today,” Mr. Winkstein said softly.

Harry let out the breathe he had been holding slowly and relaxed his posture, easing the gun off of Mr. Winkstein’s ribcage. They exited the store and Harry quickly wrapped the robe around his body, feeling slightly more at ease with his extended completely. Harry let go of Mr. Winkstein for a moment to put the hood over his head and Mr. Winkstein took advantage of the quick release.

Mr. Winkstein crumpled to the ground and moaned loudly, attracting many of the shoppers that were walking past Harry. Harry’s heart jumped to his throat as he spotted a pair of Aurors looking curiously at Mr. Winkstein. Quickly deciding that Mr. Winkstein was of no use anymore, Harry calmly walked away from the fallen man into the direction of Knockturn Alley with the owl cage in his hand.

Harry looked over his shoulder to see that one of the Aurors was following him.

Run.

Harry fought the urge to break into a jog, not wanting to bring more attention upon him. He did, however, walk briskly into the Alley and weaved through the undoubtedly suspicious looking people. He passed by a homeless man and quickly snatched the man’s robe.

“Hey!” the feeble man yelled. He made no attempt to get up however as Harry walked further and further into the Alley. He quickly stepped into a small alcove and waited patiently, setting the cage down and hoping the owl would not hoot. The Auror’s voice carried across the crowd.

“Has anyone seen a man in black robes?” the Auror asked. Harry almost laughed at the incredulity of his question. Nearly everyone had block robes in the Alley. Someone still answered the Auror though.

“Someone took my robes!” the feeble man yelled, “He went that way.”

Harry heard the Auror’s definitive footsteps come closer and closer to his position. He saw the Auror’s shadow against the light and waited until the Auror was right beside the alcove.

He quickly yanked the Auror into the alcove and smashed him into the wall. The Auror’s wand clattered against the ground as Harry continued his assault by smashing the butt of the gun against the back of the Auror’s head. With a thud, the Auror fell to the ground.

Harry quickly took off his black robe and put on the other man’s tattered brown robe and picked up the cage of the brown owl. He covered it with a black robe so the other Auror would not recognize it and walked into the direction of Diagon Alley. He passed by the feeble man who was now admiring the Galleon that the Auror had undoubtedly given him.

Spotting the Auror heading towards Knockturn Alley, Harry switched the direction he was walking and instead of walking directly to Flourish and Blotts, he walked towards the direction of Gringotts. As soon as the Auror was out of sight, Harry did an abrupt about face and walked towards the direction of Flourish and Bolts.

He walked into the bookstore and calmly started writing on a spare parchment located within the store. He wrote a quick note and walked back outside and slipped into the crowd. Harry walked with a slight hunch as the tattered robe did not fully disguise him. The crowd surged forward in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron and Harry quickly slipped back into the Cauldron with the crowd. Ignoring Tom, Harry walked up the stairs and into the third floor of the Inn.

Harry spotted the cleaning lady exiting one of the rooms and watched as she disappeared into the adjacent room. He slipped into the now empty room and spotted a parchment lying on the table. Harry slipped the letter in a spare envelope and sealed it.

He whispered directions on whom to deliver the letter and the owl let out a soft hoot as Harry opened the window and watched as the owl flew off into the distance. Harry walked back downstairs and left the owl cage and the tattered brown robes on an empty table, hoping that Tom would dismiss it as forgotten belongings.

Outside of the Cauldron, he folded the black robe neatly over his arms and blended into the crowd once more.

***

Eh, long update again, sorry!

Run, Harry, Run!

From years of experience with the Invisbility Cloak, Harry knows how to avoid people. It’d be a lot easier with the Invisbility Cloak though…

9. The Head Auror

“Harry Potter!” Head Auror Ron Weasley slammed a stack of papers down on the table.

“I doubt there is a need to remind you who he is. All of you know he is the Boy Who Defeated the Dark Lord,” he said to a group of Aurors.

He was at the head of a long, rectangular table in a new wing of the expanded Auror division. Ron Weasley had been the youngest Head Auror in nearly twenty three decades and commanded the respect of his peers with his continual work on the case of Harry Potter. He was rarely seen outside of the office except on the rare occasions when Hermione Granger would force him to sleep.

“Although I need not to inform you that he is more than capable of taking any of you down, I’ll just state some of his credentials. Harry Potter holds the highest score ever in “Escape and Evade” holds the second highest score in “Concealment and Disguise” and scored in the upper echelon of Aurors in all other subjects,” Ron flipped through the several pages of Harry Potter’s reports.

“Needless to say, he is more than capable of avoiding detection and more importantly impersonating one of us. After this meeting, some new security regulations will be handed out,” there was a soft, collective groan from the group of Aurors.

Ron Weasley narrowed his eyes as he overlooked the nearly dozen Aurors that sat before him. They were hand selected for their competence in all of the major Auror subjects as well as their level of loyalty and anonymity. Ron Weasley did not want them to spill secrets to an extended family or most of their close relatives.

“You were hand selected for this job. If the reports we have been receiving are correct, he may even be a potential security threat against the Ministry,” Ron barked. The group fell silent, fearing his wrath. Ron quickly reigned in his emotions in fear of another outburst.

“Mr. Potter was spotted this early morning by Dennis Creevey, brother of deceased Colin Creevey,” Ron said as he walked towards a blackboard and lifted his wand. An uncannily accurate drawing of Harry Potter sketched itself on the blackboard while the rest of the Aurors took in the new face of Potter.

“The first question I pose to you lot; where has Mr. Potter been?” Ron continued with his back turned to the Aurors as he stared at the picture of Harry’s face oddly.

“Forming his Dark Army?”

“Recruiting new Death Eaters?”

“Maybe he was kidnapped?”

“Perhaps he went on a sabbatical?”

Ron Weasley wheeled around on his heel and paced at the head of the desk.

“Those are all miserably horrible ideas worthy of a second year that just soiled himself from accidentally walking in on a girl,” Ron said with a bemused expression. The Aurors chuckled at Ron’s attempt to break the ice.

“Seriously, as extravagant and supposedly detailed the stories of Rita Skeeter are, that is all they are. Stories people. All her evidence is circumstantial at best and usually second hand accounts. We already know several of those pictures were magically altered by professionals. I’ve already set a tail on Skeeter because she obviously has an agenda.”

“Sir, does that mean you think that Harry Potter is not dangerous?” one of the Aurors asked with a confused expression on his face.

“Not necessarily,” Ron picked up an item from an adjacent table.

“Does anyone know what this is?” Ron held up the item for all of the Aurors.

“It’s a gun,” said one of the Aurors.

“Dennis Creevey reported that Harry Potter threatened him with this weapon. So we can obviously gather some information from this little tidbit,” Ron waved his wand and a piece of chalk started writing a checklist on the blackboard, “Harry Potter has not did not obtain a wand, nor did he choose to take Mr. Creevey’s wand. Why would that be?”

“He doesn’t want to be detected.”

“Exactly, and if Harry doesn’t want to be detected, he won’t,” Ron finished. Ron watched an Auror squirm in his seat while writing something down on a notepad.

“Is there something wrong?” Ron asked quietly.

“No, sir, just noting an observation,” the Auror quietly said.

“Care to share it with the rest of us?” Ron said as he leaned forward on the table, his eyes predatorily watching the squeamish Auror.

“Sir, haven’t you ever thought of the possibility that Mr. Potter has fallen over? To the other side I mean?” the Auror asked nervously.

“That is a possibility. We certainly have to plan for that scenario but my gut tells me that Harry hasn’t fallen over,” Ron said contemplatively. The Auror nodded in hasty agreement and ducked his head, avoiding eye contact. The Head Auror instructed the rest of the Aurors to investigate any leads on the Harry Potter case before dismissing them with a nod of his head.

As the Aurors filed out of the room, there was a shimmer and Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared from thin air. He gave Ron a curt nod before examining the Harry Potter files.

“What did you think?” Ron asked.

“They’re smart enough,” Shacklebolt said in his usual booming voice, “They question your motives however.”

Ron looked curiously at Shacklebolt.

“Why do you say that?”

“You have to admit Ron, you have very close ties to this case,” Shacklebolt observed.

“I’m a professional, I will carry this case out in the best way possible,” Ron said stiffly.

“I do not question your dedication to your profession Ron. I question your ability to hit Mr. Potter with the appropriate curse when the time arrives,” Shacklebolt raised his eyes to meet Ron’s eyes. They exchanged a meaningful glance before Shacklebolt stepped away from the files.

“Good luck with this Ron. Merlin knows that there is more at stake than most people believe,” Shacklebolt said in an authoritative voice. Ron nodded again, his back stiff and his eyes out of focus. Before Kingsley left, Ron asked him a question.

“Do you really think Harry’s that important?” Ron asked.

Shacklebolt stood in the doorframe, his back to Ron.

“Harry’s always been important Ron. You know that,” Shacklebolt paused, “There are some people who believe that there is another war on the horizon and not just in the Wizarding world. There is something afoul in the streets of London. Something unnatural. Harry’s disappearance may give us at least some information on what the hell is going on.”

“Any updates?”

“Word from the spies indicates that there is a large recruitment of heavy Dark forces. I want to put an end to this recruitment before history repeats itself,” Shacklebolt said, “Update me.”

Shacklebolt swept out of the door with a wave of his robes, leaving Ron in contemplation of this new information. As Ron was packing, an ordinary brown owl flew into the room and dropped a hastily written letter on the table. Before Ron could even leave a tip in the pouch on the owl’s leg, it swept off with a soft hoot, leaving Ron alone with the white envelope.

Ron.

Ron’s name was scribbled at the very center of the envelope with no return address. Quietly waving his wand over the letter, Ron found there to be no curses or jinxes within the envelope. His curiosity peaked; Ron tentatively opened the letter and found a small note written on the piece of parchment within.

Ron,

Grimmauld at 3. Come alone.

A feeling of trepidation crawled across Ron’s skin as he read the brief letter. It was written in the same half-scrawl that clearly identified the writer as Harry Potter or at least someone who could fake the handwriting with shocking accuracy. He stared numbly at the letter for a couple of moments before snapping into action. Waving his wand deftly, Ron conjured a Patronus and sent it off for the Aurors that had just left the room.

***

“We’re here,” Ron said as he peered through the windows of Grimmauld Place. A half dozen Aurors stood behind him, clad in thick, protective robes. Ron inspected the formerly untouched front door of Grimmauld. As homage to Sirius and Dumbledore, Harry had locked the doors the old fashioned Muggle way; he had looped a thick, steel chain through the handle of the door and locked it with an enormous canine shaped padlock.

Ron signaled for the group of Aurors to advance slowly. They emerged from the small forest in a spearhead formation, warily watching the streets for any signs of a trap. As Ron approached the door, he raised his hand and made a fist, indicating for the group to stop. At once, the Aurors flattened their formation until they were parallel with the gate outside Grimmauld Place.

The canine shaped padlock lay unlocked within the fallen steel chains. It confirmed Ron’s suspicions that Harry had been here. A gust of wind rustled Ron’s robes as he stared at the lock mutely. There was a rush of blood to the head as Ron slipped back in time.

“Are you sure about this Harry?” Ron asked. Harry was feverishly looping the steel chains around the door handles repeatedly with an intense look on his face.

“I’m never been more sure in my life,” Harry grunted as he looped it around another time. He finally stood up and dusted his hands on his pants as he stared at his creation.

“Oh, one more thing,” Harry reached from behind him and produced a thick canine shaped padlock.

“There are magical enchantments that prevent the lock from being broken through any sort of magic. It can only be unlocked with this key,” Harry held up a golden key, “We shouldn’t disturb this place.”

Ron and Harry looked up through the several windows that faced the street. For a moment, Ron thought he could see Kreacher passing through one of the windows but as he blinked again, he saw nothing.

“I still don’t understand why we’re locking this place down. We can still use it,” Ron said.

“They told me to,” Harry said in a half whisper.

“Who told you to?” Ron asked.

Harry turned to him, “Mr. Weasley?”

“Mr. Weasley?”

Ron snapped to attention as the highest ranking Auror addressed him.

“Orders?”

“Group into pairs. Follow me,” Ron commanded as he walked swiftly towards the door. He waved his wand to check for jinxes. Ron carefully opened the door. It gave a large moan from lack of use and Ron could see the individual particles of dust wafting in the air.

An old musky scent assaulted Ron’s olfactory senses as he crossed the threshold into Grimmauld Place. At once, the torches that lined the hallway lit in a bright flurry, revealing the cobwebs and spiders that infested the dank hall.

The Aurors pressed themselves against the walls as Ron led the way. Mrs. Black was strangely quiet as Ron passed her frame and walked into the kitchen. A layer of dust covered the long table and Ron could distinctly hear the Weasley family laughing in the distance. Memories gripped the Head of the Auror Department until the same Auror interrupted his sojourn into the past again.

“Orders?” the Auror said with a little more impatience.

“Investigate the house. Be careful, Harry’s well trained,” Ron said vaguely. The lead Auror nodded and made a couple of hand motions, indicating the directions that the other two pairs should take.

“You two stay with me,” Ron said as he walked around the kitchen table, his finger trailing through the dust. Ron kept walking around the kitchen, bewildering the two Aurors that watched as their leader walked almost drunkenly around the table. Ron stopped near the sink and leaned closer.

“He’s here,” Ron whispered as he watched a drop of water fall from the faucet. One of the Aurors behind him cursed softly, and Ron heard shuffling behind him.

There was a thud directly above them followed by a similar thud. Dust fell from the ceiling, indicating that whatever had fallen was directly on top of them.

“What was that?” one of the Aurors whispered shakily.

“Check for the teams,” Ron ordered. The lead Auror conjured a bubble and whispered it instructions before it raced off into the heart of the darkness. Before the bubble could even reach the top of the stairs, two bodies tumbled down the staircase.

“Who is it?” Ron asked.

“Murtogg and Mullroy,” the head Auror answered as he checked their pulses.

Ron shook his head as he looked up the staircase. The three Aurors stared upwards and watched as a hooded figure emerged from the top of the banister. He stared down at them, his face shrouded by the darkness of the house and his hood. As quickly as he appeared, the person was out of sight.

“The other pair is probably down. Stunning and disarming spells only,” Ron ordered as he brandished his wand. Quickly ascending the staircase, the trio kept their eyes upwards, wary of an attack. The ancient wood creaked underneath the pressure of their feet as they swiftly made their way to the top of the staircase.

“Hold,” Ron said as he peeked over the top stair. He rotated in a circle, quickly identifying the possible rooms where Harry might hide. Just as Ron had completed his revolution, he heard a snap and watched as something hurtled through the air and collided with one of the Aurors. The object collided with such force that it sent the Auror tumbling over the railing. Ron watched helplessly as the Auror fell out of sight.

“Levicorpus!” the lead Auror cast in desperation. Unfortunately, the spell did not work as well as he hoped as the falling Auror was yanked upwards and smacked his head into the adjacent wall. Ron winced at the harsh sound before casting his own spell.

”Wingardium Leviosa!”

The Auror froze, suspended in mid-air as gently laid him on the ground below. He shot a look at the shaken Auror besides him and said, “Levicorpus doesn’t work as well when the target’s already in the air, Thomas.”

Thomas nodded with a grim look on his face. Ron picked up the object that had collided with the Auror.

“House-elf,” Ron chuckled despite the situation. He rolled the rotted head in his hands and said mostly to himself, “Hermione would not be happy with you.”

“Sir,” Thomas addressed him formally, “We need to take Mr. Potter down.”

Ron nodded in vague agreement as he climbed the stairs again. There was another snap as Ron spotted another house-elf hurtling through the air. Ron and Thomas easily side stepped the swinging head and waited until the movement stopped. Mesmerized by the rotten head, Thomas stuck his hand out to yank it off the rope that was attached to the house-elf’s ears.

As soon as Thomas touched the head however, it snapped off the thin rope and two planks of wood fell from above his head and collided with his skull. Ron barely caught Thomas as he crumpled to the ground, preventing just a little more damage to the poor bloke’s cranial area.

“Not a smart fellow is he?” a voice called out from the darkness.

Ron snapped around to the sound of the voice, his ears straining for the locale. All of the doors remained closed as the little sunlight that poured through the half-circle window did nothing to improve the lighting.

“Put your wand down, Ron,” the voice said again.

“Harry. We need to talk,” Ron projected.

There was laughter. It started softly at first, just a slight snicker. The laughter continued until the person was almost shrieking and Ron was eerily reminded me of Sirius’ laugh in the Shrieking Shack during his 3^rd year.

“That is you, right Harry?” Ron asked again.

The laughing died down as quickly as it had started. There was a shuffle of footsteps and Ron saw a shadow move out of the corner of his eye.

“Put your wand down, Ron,” Harry said.

Ron hesitated for a moment, his body jerking forward. Eventually he tossed his wand to the ground and watched as it rolled out of sight.

“Your other,” Harry said.

Ron reached for his ankle holster slowly. As soon as Ron had a firm grip on the wand, he fired off two spells; he fired one at where he thought Harry stood and he fired another one at the half-circle window, flooding the top floor with sunlight. Using the broken window as a distraction, Ron attempted to open the nearest door only to find it locked. Cursing his luck, Ron crouched and pressed himself as closely as he could against the wall.

Ron surveyed his situation and deemed it decidedly unfavorable. He had no cover and Harry could plainly see him in the bright sunlight. He distinctly heard the hammer of a gun cock back.

“Wait! Wait! I’m putting it down!” Ron yelled as he laid the wand down and kicked it away. He stood up with his hands in the air in a surrender position, still trying to find Harry.

“That was a nice trick, Ron. Trying to hit me and cast as much light as possible at the same time,” Harry said in the same omniscient voice.

“Too bad it didn’t work. Always did outthink me, didn’t you Harry?” Ron asked.

Ron watched as the trap door lowered from the ceiling and the same hooded figure walked down the stairs with a gun pointed at Ron. Ron could see that Harry was dressed in Muggle fashion with faded jeans and a dark hooded sweatshirt. The sleeves were pulled all the way down to the wrists with black leather gloves covering his hands.

“There’s no need for the gun, Harry,” Ron said.

“Why not Ron? Am I not a psychopath on the loose?” Harry mocked.

“Well it sure looks like it but if you wanted me dead, it would have happened long before I got up here,” Ron reasoned.

“Who says I’ll kill you afterwards?” Harry asked quietly.

Ron’s heart thumped a little faster at Harry’s question. It was certainly not out of the question for Harry to first interrogate him before executing him. Still, Ron would give Harry a chance before jumping to conclusions.

“I need to ask you some questions,” Harry stated, his gun still pointed at Ron.

“As do I, Harry. There’s no need to point the gun at me,” Ron said again.

“DON’T PATRONIZE ME!” Harry roared. Ron started and stepped backwards in confusion, losing the status quo. He needed to keep Harry calm. Ron held his palms outward as a sign of peace.

“Listen, I’m not patrozin-“ Ron started.

“-Yes. You. Are,” Harry emphasized his word with a jab of his gun. He chuckled hysterically before speaking again, “Just because I’ve been gone for six years doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten the tactics of negotiation.”

Ron cursed himself silently for underestimating Harry. For all the warnings he had given the other Aurors, Ron certainly did not follow his own advice.

“Now, I need some answers,” Harry said with a calm voice again. Ron was slightly disturbed by Harry’s sudden change in emotion.

“You know I can’t just do that, Harry” Ron repeated.

Harry stopped his advances, looking as if he were weighing his options.

“Harry, it’s just me,” Ron pleaded. Harry stood still, not speaking.

“Let’s play game,” Harry said, “I’ll ask a question. You answer. You’ll a question. I’ll answer. Simple enough for you?”

Ron deflected the obvious jest at his mental acumen and responded, “Yes.”

“How did you become Head of the Auror Department?” Harry asked first.

“I…after you disappeared, I led the search team and captured nearly all of the remaining Death Eaters in my attempt to find you. After the old Head retired, Shacklebolt chose me to replace him. One of his more controversial decisions actually, making such a young person the Head of a Department,” Ron shrugged. Harry nodded his approval.

“Where have you been?” Ron asked.

Harry paused and Ron saw his eyes flicker underneath the hood. His shoulders bunched together and his feet shuffled, indicative of an unnerving question.

“I’ve been here the whole time.”

Ron cocked his head curiously, “Harry, let’s bring you in.”

Harry shuffled his feet again and let out a snort.

“You think I’m crazy don’t you?” Harry asked calmly.

“You’ve been gone for a long time. I can see that, you didn’t even know when I was promoted. You don’t know…” said Ron in what he hoped to be a soothing voice.

Harry growled and yanked back his wood, showing his untamed hair and growing beard. While his face definitely looked worse for wear, his green eyes still burned with fire, striking a sort of awe within Ron.

“Look at me. Do I look crazy?”

“Well, I never imagined a beard on you,” Ron half-heartedly joked. Harry was not amused.

“It’s my turn to ask a question again,” Ron stated.

“What? No, I never asked mine,” Harry started.

“Incorrect. In fact, you asked two questions,” Ron needled. Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Ron was correct.

“Now I’ll ask again, Harry. Where were you?”

“I was here. I’ve been here for six years, three months, and some odd number of days. You can comb my memory all you want Ron. I want answers as well. Like, for example, why no one was in England for the past six years and all of you pop up like life’s normal,” Harry ranted, his eyes flittering unnaturally.

“Harry, you were the one that was gone for six years. You were the one that left us all in shambles!” Ron countered furiously.

“DON’T BLAME THIS ON ME!” Harry roared, “I. DID. NOTHING!”

“Well then tell me where you really were Harry. Tell me what you’ve been doing for the past six years,” Ron said sarcastically, advancing towards Harry.

“Don’t move,” Harry whispered.

“You’re not going to shoot-“

BANG. A shot rang through the house, grazing Ron’s ear. Ron yelped in pain as he kneeled down, clutching his ear. A trickle of blood seeped through his fingers.

“Dammit, Harry.”

Ron looked up, but Harry was no longer there. Looking over the railing, Ron met Harry’s eyes.

“Harry! Just come in! We have answers!” Ron yelled desperately.

“No, you don’t. You just proved it to me,” Harry responded before yanking the hood over his head and vanishing out of sight.

“Merlin’s beard,” Ron whispered as he attempted to mend his ear. He was unsuccessful however as blood spurted in a new diagonal arc.

“Fuck.”

Staggering out of Grimmauld Place, Ron sent a Patronus back to Auror Headquarters before Apparating away. The familiar feeling of being squeezed through a pipe enclosed Ron. With a gasp, Ron landed on soft sand. The sound of crashing waves reached Ron’s ears as he made his way to a little house perched on a small bluff overlooking the ocean.

Ron shivered as he passed through the magical barriers surrounding the cozy home. He pounded furiously on the door, still grasping his ear.

“Hermione! Hermione! I need to talk to you!”

***

School makes it hard to update.

It felt strange writing a Ron-centric episode after the numerous Harry-centric episodes.

Even more questions. Still not enough answers.

All is not well in the Muggle world.

10. Aristocracy

“Harry Potter!” Ron bellowed.

Hermione immediately stumbled over the pile of folders that littered her floor. Neatly sidestepping a row of Ministry files, Hermione finally wrenched open the magically protected door to find Ron Weasley clutching his ear.

“Finally,” he muttered, inviting himself inside.

“Ron! What happened to you? What about Harry?” Hermione frenetically asked as her bushy hair waved in the slight breeze.

“Just hold on one second,” Ron said as he rummaged through the medicine cabinet.

“Oh, let me,” Hermione said. She took a gooey substance in a green jar and applied it to Ron’s ear. Hermione watched as the wound closed almost immediately and the blood ceased to flow from the gash.

“Now, tell me what happened,” Hermione stepped back with her hands on her hips, “And why did you say Harry’s name?”

“Fastest way to get you to the door, I suppose,” Ron shrugged as he collapsed on a nearby sofa. He exhaled deeply before turning to address Hermione.

“No doubt you’ve heard,” he said, more as a statement rather than a question.

“Of course I have,” she scoffed as she picked up the Daily Prophet, “How could I have possibly missed it?”

“Surely you haven’t come all this way with a bloody ear to tell me about something I already know,” she reasoned.

“Don’t be so flattered, I have more important news,” Ron waved his hand idly in the air.

Hermione bit back a sarcastic remark, mostly hoping to hear something Harry-related.

“I saw him.”

Hermione let out a breath she did not know she had been holding. She sat straight, her back stiff and her eyes wide, awaiting more news. Unfortunately for her, Ron had decided to take a momentary vacation within his own mind.

“Ron. Ron,” Hermione snapped her fingers in front of his eyes. He started before coughing and continuing his story.

“Right after noon, I got a letter from an anonymous owl. It said to meet him – yes, Harry – at Grimmauld at around 3. It’s not like we haven’t seen this before but there was something about the handwriting. Something so oddly familiar about it. We didn’t have any other leads at the time, so I decided to give it a shot.”

“You do know Grimmauld’s been locked ever since – you know,” Hermione said.

“Yes, yes, I know. Imagine what I thought when I got to Grimmauld and the pad was unlocked,” Ron sat up straighter in his seat and Hermione inched closer, eager to hear more.

“We went in and everything was as creepy as usual. We start our routine investigation when I noticed the faucet was dripping – yes I knew, stop interrupting – anyways, the other two teams went down in a hurry – Hermione, let me finish!” Ron exclaimed exasperatedly.

“I’m sorry, but you have to explain everything in detail! The details are important Ronald!” Hermione countered.

“If you would let me bloody go on –“

“Why did you stop the story?”

Ron glared at her, obviously frustrated by her inquisitiveness.

“As I was saying, Thomas got knocked out while we were heading up the stairs and – well – I saw him,” Ron finished dramatically. There was a pause as Hermione met his eyes.

“What did he look like? Was he hurt? Was there anyone with him? Did he have his wand? Was he alright?” her questions snapped off one behind the other in rapid form.

“Hermione, if you don’t calm down in two seconds –“

“Can you please just tell me what happened?” Hermione pressed, now frustrated by the pauses.

“I can’t keep going if you –“

“Ron, what happened?”

“Stop interrupting me.”

“Fine.”

“As I was saying again, I saw him. He was unkempt, wore Muggle clothing, carried a gun, and was a little bit…” Ron made a circling motion around his ears.

“Crazy?”

“He wasn’t all set in the head,” Ron said softly.

“I’m sure he was just disoriented. After all, he hadn’t seen you in six years –“

“You don’t know that.”

“No, but it’s the most likely possibility,” Hermione chewed on her lip thoughtfully.

“Well, we started asking each other questions. Then, he started getting angry at me when I asked him where he had been for the past six years. He said something about being alone and that we weren’t there and a whole lot of rubbish like that. I didn’t really understand what he was saying but I know one thing for certain; he has no recollection of the past six years,” Ron finally finished. Hermione was deep in thought and she broke down the different scenarios in her head.

She stood up and made her way into another room to gather some of her clothes.

“Hermione, where are you going?”

“To find him.”

“Probably not the best idea,” Ron said as he rose from the couch.

“Since when has that ever stopped us,” Hermione said from her bedroom.

“Since when has that ever stopped you, Harry?” Hermione said.

“I’m just not too sure about this one,” Harry said as he looked through a pair of Muggle binoculars.

“You’re not sure about what?” Hermione asked again as she also peered through a pair of Muggle binoculars.

“There’s just something strange about this guy,” Harry muttered quietly.

The two of them were sitting on a tree branch underneath Harry’s invisibility cloak. The person in question was a rich aristocrat who was suspected of funding previous Death Eater operations by converting Muggle pounds into hordes of Galleons. There was a tip off that suggested a meeting between an underground Death Eater and the aristocrat.

“Harry, there’s a lot of evidence against this guy and he practically screams Death Eater. We just saw someone enter the mansion. Why are we still sitting over here?” Hermione pressed.

“There’s just something off, Hermione. You wouldn’t understand,” Harry said again.

Hermione huffed and lowered the binoculars. She was deeply annoyed by Harry’s impracticality, and she could not figure out a reasonable explanation of his actions. It seemed as if he was fearful of approaching this aristocrat.

“Hermione?”

“Yes, Harry.”

“Have you ever believed in like – you know – higher life forms and such,” Harry said slowly, still peering through his binoculars.

“What are you talking about, Harry?” Hermione asked as she examined his face. Harry’s expression remained placid as he continued to look through his binoculars.

“Harry?”

“Let’s move.”

Puzzled by Harry’s question, Hermione shrugged it off and whipped off his Invisibility Cloak and stuffed it in her pocket. She felt him grab her arm and the familiar squeezing feeling as she Side-Apparated to the front door of the Mansion.

“There’s only two and I don’t expect much resistance but be careful,” Harry gave her instructions.

“I’ll be fine,” she said gruffly as she tied her hair into a ponytail. Harry nodded as he whispered Alohamora. The towering gates opened with a great crunch as Harry and Hermione swiftly made their way to the large, mahogany doors.

Harry nodded and Hermione swished her wand as the door exploded inwards into the house.

Harry stepped over the remaining debris and with a swish of his cloak, the resulting ashes of the door divided like a knife cutting through soft fabric. Hermione followed closely behind him in slight awe at Harry’s unneeded dramatics but surveyed the scenario nonetheless.

The Death Eater, Jones, she suspected, looked startled at the sudden intrusion. The smug aristocrat, on the other hand, smiled when he met her eyes. A feeling of revulsion drove itself through Hermione’s body as she raised her wand.

“DON’T MOVE,” she roared.

While the aristocrat seemed to obey the command, the Death Eater clumsily rolled along the floor in an effort to evade any sort of jinx thrown towards him. It was to no avail, however, as Harry quickly stunned him in mid-spin. Unfortunately for the Death Eater, he had rolled straight into a large plant that was situated in a small nook of the enormous foyer.

Once they had established that Jones was completely incapacitated, Harry and Hermione focused their attention on the prime target of the operation. They stood there as if time was frozen in a strange vacuum. Hermione had her wand pointed at the aristocrat, but Harry’s wand was at his side as he regarded the mysterious person with a strange face.

Hermione glanced at Harry out of the corner of her eye.

“By Order of the Decree of Merlin, I declare you, Mr…” Hermione started.

“Herm…ione Jane Gran…ger,” the aristocrat said softly in a staggered speech. Hermione stopped as she struggled to regain her composure.

“More impo…rtantly, Harry J…ames Pot…ter,” he said softly with a slight smirk on his visage in the same awkward voice. Harry did not respond as Hermione continued to regain her composure.

“I’ve been…waiting…for you,” the aristocrat said in his stunted speech.

“Harry, what’s going on?” Hermione whispered softly.

“Un…comfort…able, Ms. Gran…ger?” the aristocrat advanced towards them one step.

“Don’t move,” Hermione said. There was a strange tingling feeling in her spine as she tracked the aristocrat. There was something awfully wrong with this situation. No doubt he would be informed about the two of the most public figures in the Wizarding World but he seemed to have Harry in a sort of trance.

Deciding to take the situation into her own hands in lieu of Harry’s stupor, Hermione raised her wand high to perform a complicated Transportation Spell. Before she could speak, however, the aristocrat interrupted her.

“I…wouldn’t do that…if I…were you,” he said.

Momentarily startled but resolute nonetheless, Hermione raised her wand again but not before a great bang knocked her off her feet. She felt herself hurtling through the air through the large foyer before crunching against an adjacent wall.

She struggled to maintain consciousness but the comforting arms of darkness overwhelmed her. The last thing Hermione saw before she fell into the darkness was Harry’s blank stare.

The next day, Harry locked Grimmauld Place.

“Grimmauld Place,” Hermione said while she packed her clothes.

“What’s that?” Ron asked.

“Did you ever wonder why he went to Grimmauld?” Hermione said.

“Evidence points to the fact that…well…no one could get in,” Ron shot off.

“There has to be something more to this mystery, Ron,” Hermione poked her head in to shoot Ron a look.

“Harry just pops out of thin air and rambles about being alone for six years and the first place he goes to is Grimmauld Place? The Place he locked down. Do you remember that?” Hermione said from her room.

“Well, of course I remember it. To this date, I still don’t know what exactly got into Harry the last couple of days before he disappeared. He was acting a little loony, don’t you remember?” Ron wondered aloud.

“Of course I remember Harry’s existential crisis. How could you not? Listen, forget about that for one second and help me figure out where Harry could possibly go next…”

***

Ron and Hermione sat on the top floor of the Shrieking Shack, an inordinately large telescope pointing out from the single window facing Hogwarts School. Hermione was sipping from a mug of Butterbeer while Ron quickly digested his fifth Pumpkin Pasty.

“You think he’ll really come here?” Ron asked through a mouthful of food.

“He’s been to the Burrow, to the Ministry, and to Grimmauld Place. If he’s acting the way I think he would be acting after spending several years in some sort of supposed isolation then he’s looking for answers. Hogwarts offers him those answers,” Hermione repeated her logic to Ron for the umpteenth time.

Hermione saw Ron shrug out of her peripheral vision but said nothing. The soft mist was splattered along the ground in small patches which obscured Hermione’s vision. Occasionally wisps of the mist would curl softly into the air as if an arm were rising out of the ground. Hermione shivered slightly and pulled her robe tightly around her, savoring the warmth. This night eerily reminded of her of another night that would forever confuse her.

Lost in the depths of her own musings, Hermione did not hear Ron’s exclamation until he continually snapped his fingers in front of her face.

“Ronald. Stop it. I hate it when you do that,” Hermione snapped. Ron did not reply but instead pointed at the telescope wordlessly. Hermione looked through the scope and gasped at what she saw.

A heavily clothed figure was making its way from the Forbidden Forest, laying quite low and undoubtedly almost invisible to the naked eye. Luckily for Hermione and Ron, their telescope had been charmed to perform special maneuvers.

“Telescope, Zoom and Track,” Hermione said clearly. The telescope immediately extended and refocused its lens as it tracked the figure with a slow whirring of its gears. Hermione whipped out a notepad and began scribbling.

“What are you writing?” Ron asked. She didn’t reply, and Ron leaned over her shoulder to see her drawing an outline of the distant figure.

“Hermione, we know it’s Harry,” Ron covertly whispered.

“First of all, no we don’t. Second of all, I do believe that a sketch of the figure in question is in order anyways. Last of all, there’s really no need to whisper,” Hermione said. Ron wrinkled his nose in slight agitation but said nothing. Instead, he peered through the telescope to see the figure rapidly approaching Hagrid’s Hut.

“Hermione, we need to move,” Ron said as he packed up the rest of the surveillance equipment with a flick of his wand.

Hermione nodded and quickly moved to her feet. Ron and Hermione raced their way through the underground tunnel that connected the Shrieking Shack to the Whomping Willow. Poking her head outside, Hermione determined that the coast was clear and proceeded to tap the knot and make her way to Hagrid’s Hut.

As she approached the aging Hut, Hermione listened closely to the sounds within the cottage. She could hear Hagrid’s gentle snoring and Fang’s slight yapper and concluded that Hagrid was still asleep. Ron tapped her on the shoulder and made a sign with his hands to indicate that he should go through the back door. Hermione nodded in agreement and crouched towards the front door.

A rush of emotions threatened to swamp over her as she made her way through the mist and to the front door. Swallowing the knot in her throat, Hermione gently turned the door knob and softly pushed it forward.

“Harry,” Hermione said softly, her voice seemingly floating along the air waves as it traversed across the nearly empty room.

Hermione crossed the threshold to see that slightly hunched figure holding an undoubtedly stale loaf of bread half-way to his mouth. Hermione stood as if she was mesmerized by his very presence. His green eyes still shone brilliantly underneath his ragged hood.

Hermione fought to keep in the tears that threatened to overflow the dam. Had it really been six years since she had last laid her eyes on her best friend? Had it really been that long? Although they were just a few meters apart, Hermione felt as if there was a vast abyss that divided them.

Wordlessly, Harry put down the loaf of bread and brushed his hands on his sides, attempting to clean them. Hermione almost giggled at the incredulity of the situation when Harry made an attempt to straighten his robe by smoothing out the sides.

Their eyes met again and Hermione felt her body unconsciously take a step towards Harry. As if by magic, Harry took a step forward as well and lowered the scarf that covered his mouth, finally revealing his face to Hermione.

A sob finally wrenched itself out of Hermione as a tear slid down her cheeks. She watched as Harry’s face turned from slight optimism to a troubled frown as he took another step towards her.

“Harry,” a voice said from behind him.

Quick as a flash, Harry tucked himself into a ball while turning around to face the voice. Hermione could not even get a word out before a loud bang resonated throughout the tiny hut.

Hagrid gave a startled yell as he picked up his pink umbrella, and Fang’s incessant barking could have woken the whole School had it been in session.

Harry cursed profusely as he crawled on all fours to Ron.

Ron was holding his stomach in obvious pain and Hermione could see the reflection from the blood that was quickly pooling around his waist.

***

Sorry for the lack of updates, school’s really been tough.

I will be continuing this story.

Review please!

11. Off the Edge

“Harry…” Ron gasped as he coughed up copious amounts of blood. His head was in Harry’s lap and Hermione was treating the wound as best she could with her limited medical training.

“How long until Madame Pomfrey arrives, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“I’m…I’m, not sure,” Harry stuttered as he watched Hermione wave her wand in a circular motion, imitating the clockwise motion of a clock. Harry frowned at the unintended motion nonetheless, eerily reminded of his previous prison.

“Tell me again why you carry that around,” Ron coughed up another spurt of blood.

Harry opened his mouth to speak but found his throat to be too parched from lack of use and as a result, he sat there opening and closing his mouth in slight frustration.

Clearing his throat, Harry spoke.

“It’s my protection,” Harry said softly.

Ron simply groaned and shut his eyes, the beads of sweat sprinkling his already freckled face.

Harry’s eyes scanned the scene before him. Hermione was still waving her wand in uncomfortable resemblance to the haunting clock that bewildered Harry so long ago. Ron was gasping for air in obvious pain and discomfort from the wound in his abdomen.

The world swam before Harry as he struggled to fight the nausea that threatened to burst forth from his mouth. The emotions that he had suppressed in lieu of the unintentional bullet were now resurfacing and Harry could not help but feel elated at the sight of the Trio reunited again.

Hagrid burst through the door with Madame Promfrey in tow.

“What in Merlin’s na-,” Madame Promfrey stopped as she saw Harry’s startled expression. Madame Promfrey opened her mouth to speak but she did not have anything to say. She blinked rapidly as if snapping out of a trance and Harry swore he heard her whisper, “Why do I even have to ask?”

Madame Promfrey set to work, carefully maneuvering her wands as to not rupture the delicate wound anymore. She whispered quietly under her breathe and Harry was caught in a trance and he watched as the wound slowly close itself. Ron’s abdomen glowed with an abnormally bright light before Madame Promfrey ceased her movements.

He did not hear Hermione calling out to him.

“Harry. Harry. Harry,” Hermione repeated the third time as she tugged on the sleeve of his jacket. He started quickly, his eyes snapping and abruptly facing Hermione, who was suddenly very close to him.

“We should leave Ron be. He’s been through worse,” Hermione said softly, diverting her eyes from Harry’s intense orbs and instead focusing on Ron.

Harry cleared his throat and responded, “Of course.”

“Come on, we should get you cleaned up,” Hermione nodded towards his shirt, and Harry was mildly surprised at the amount of blood that had soaked his jacket while he had held on to Ron.

“Can’t you just…you know,” Harry waved his hand around aimlessly, feeling a little foolish despite the circumstances.

“Oh,” Hermione blushed, “Of course.”

She waved her wand and whispered, “Scourgify,” underneath her breath. The liquid immediately disappeared off Harry’s jacket and he thanked her.

“Still have the habit of doing it the Muggle way I see,” Harry commented drly.

Hermione smiled and Harry looked at her curiously without smiling.

“Why are you smiling?” he asked as he dusted off the vanished blood.

Hermione’s smiled faltered as if she didn’t anticipate the question.

“I’m just glad to see you is all,” she said softly. Harry’s face revealed nothing. It was as if he had no emotions at all.

“I, um, expect we have a lot to talk about,” Hermione prodded gently. Harry nodded as they set off to the castle.

-----------__________---------------

Harry and Hermione sat at the highest tower of Hogwarts, sipping quietly on Pumpkin Juice. Hermione had smuggled Harry through the castle, successfully evading the numerous Professors and Ghosts that occupied the Halls. Hermione had managed to steal some pleasantries from the Kitchens before they ascended to the Astronomy Tower.

Harry sipped his pumpkin juice quietly, deciding that it was Hermione’s prerogative to take the lead.

“Harry. I don’t mean to be blunt, but what happened to you?” Hermione asked bluntly.

Harry did not speak for several moments, still sipping his Pumpkin Juice. Hermione fidgeted nervously, anxious that she had asked the wrong question.

“What I’m meaning to say is that-“

“I don’t know,” Harry interrupted, staring idly at the liquid mixture in front of him. He shook the cup lightly as if he was amazed by the simple sloshing movement of the Juice.

“I mean, can you tell me anything that-“

“I don’t know.”

“Surely, you must have remembe-“

“I don’t know.”

“You can’t just-“

“I. Don’t. Know,” Harry punctuated each of the words with a soft pause. He raised his eyes to meet hers and Hermione held her tongue as she stared into Harry’s emerald eyes. They were devoid of any sort of happiness. It was oddly blank yet extremely vulnerable. Deep behind the emerald eyes laid a broken man.

Hermione let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding, silently admonishing herself for being so forward. Nonetheless, curiosity drove Hermione to ask just two more questions.

“Harry, what happened?”

Harry paused as he did before, now holding the cup precariously between two fingers. Six times he opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He gave a soft chuckle as he laid the cup gently on the wooden table that separated himself and Hermione.

“Everyone was gone. No people, no magic…no nothing. It was as if Merlin himself had zapped the world of any sort of life. The seasons never changed. The leaves never colored. It was the same monotonous, bloody day for six years, three months, and twenty-three days. I lived by myself. It was torture. I contemplated my death several times. Even here. I tried to kill myself right here, Hermione. Are you beginning to understand?”

Harry was now trembling. His head pushed against his chest, his hands hammering on the table top. Hermione held a hand to her mouth, fearful of what he would say next.

“I wanted it to end. There was nothing more. Nothing. Even then, it, they, wouldn’t let me do that,” Harry said bitterly.

He chuckled softly, slowly moving his head from side to side, his eyes flittering back and forth.

“I suppose, this is Fate’s way of giving me a second chance at things.”

Hermione did not respond. She only stared at Harry, her feet planted firmly on the ground and her back stiff. She did not know it, but she had slowly been pushing away as Harry recounted the dreadful tale of his disappearance.

“I guess you know now,” Harry finished.

Hermione opened her mouth to respond but found herself speechless for the first time in a long, long time. It was only after several moments that she gathered herself and spoke again.

“I’m sure…there’s some sort of way to explain it all,” Hermione said, staring at Harry to gauge his reaction. Harry snorted and leaned back in his chair with a sickly smirk.

“Right.”

Hermione steeled herself, wary of Harry’s fragile state of mind. She reached out with her hand to attempt to comfort him.

“Harry…”

As her hand approached him, however, he snapped back and stood up. His eyes wide and his head twitching, Hermione could see the abrupt changes of personality that had taken form within the past couple of minutes.

“Where’s Ginny?” he suddenly asked.

Hermione started, apparently surprised by his question. Harry watched the several emotions that flickered across her face: surprise, embarrassment, pity.

“Hermione…please,” he said blankly.

Hermione just shook her head, unwilling to be the bearer of yet more bad news. Harry’s eyes pleaded with her, however, and she closed her eyes as she spoke.

“She killed herself. A couple of days after you disappeared,” she whispered. Although one could barely hear her, each word magnified itself numerous times in Harry’s ears. Her words reverberated and Harry was aware that Hermione was still speaking yet he did not listen.

He stumbled backwards, bracing himself with one hand as he collided with the wall. A torrent of emotions ripped his heart out yet no tears burned his eyes. Out of his peripheral, Harry saw Hermione stand up and walk around the table. Her arm was outstretched in a form of solace, but Harry would have no part of it.

As she got closer, Harry pushed himself off the wall and brushed her arm away.

He could feel her behind him, unsure of what to do. Harry’s world spun before him and he leaned against the table to regain his balance.

“Harry, please…” Hermione started as she attempted to regain connection with him.

“Get out.”

“I don’t think that’s a-“

“Now.”

Hermione stood straight, determined not to fold against Harry’s unrelenting sadness. She would not buckle now, not after what he had been through.

“I will not leave.”

“GO!,” Harry roared as he picked up the mug of Pumpkin Juice and threw it across the room.

It shattered against the stone, the Pumpkin Juice spraying the wall in an awkward manner. Hermione’s mouth was agape as she took in the scene before her. Harry was hunched over the wooden table, breathing heavily, his knuckles turning white from his strong grip on the table.

Although every fiber of her body screamed, “Don’t go!” Hermione left without a word. As she opened the door, she turned around hoping to catch Harry’s eye one more time and let him know that she was there for him.

Unfortunately, he did not look up.

The door clicked quietly, affirming Hermione’s exit. As the door clicked shut, Harry exhaled. With every breath he let out, the pent-up emotions slowly left him. His emotions leaked out of him like a rickety roof in a downpour. His eyes burned as the salt stung painfully.

He roared as he picked up the stool that he had been sitting on and smashed it against the table.

SMASH.

Harry wailed continuously on the table, screaming profanities as he beat the wooden table to a pulp. The stool shattered but he kept smashing the table with the leg of the stool, screaming all the while.

“NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!” he cried desperately. Kicking the remains of the table with his foot, Harry approached the windowsill with the wooden leg of the stool in his splintered hands.

He gave another yell as he hurled the leg out of the window and screamed into the sky.

“I NEVER WANTED ANYTHING!” he screamed uselessly against the sky. He stared at the stars and the moons, hoping for some sort of sign.

“I DID EVERYTHING YOU ASKED FOR! WHY ME?!” Harry banged his hands against the stone windowsill, furthering injuring himself.

He let loose an unearthly yell, howling into the sky.

Harry was spent. He slid to the floor, bloodied and defeated.

“Why me…why me…why me,” he whispered continuously. It was only a few minutes later when he passed out from exhaustion.

On the other side of the wooden door, Hermione sobbed quietly into her fist, only wishing to share some of the burden that had strapped itself onto Harry’s shoulders. She would try her best to help him. She was determined to let Harry live the life he so greatly desired.

----_______-----

Harry woke up, his feet kicking from the cramped position in which he had fallen asleep. It was still night. The moon poured through the window as Harry adjusted his glass to re-orient himself.

“Who was that?” he mumbled as he heard another noise.

“Hello?”

There was another crash.

The knot in Harry’s stomach tightened as he found himself defenseless against the unknown source of sound.

“Hermione?”

There was a dull scraping sound. It was as if something was dragging slowly across the ground. It was in the room.

Harry shuffled backwards on all four limbs, crunching himself in the corner in fear of whatever was in the room.

The dragging sound grew louder and louder, a constant scrape against the cobbled floor. Harry shook violently but did not dare shut his eyes.

The figure that scraped along the ground was slowly approaching Harry. He could see the outline of a human body in the darkness, almost crossing the threshold of light. Harry could only watch, his mouth agape, as the moonlight struck vivid, red hair.

Harry started hyperventilating as the rest of the figure crossed into the light.

It was Ginny. Her face was bloodied and her eye sockets were empty as she dragged her broken leg across the cobbled floor. There was blood splattered over her white night gown, and her left arm hung loose in an awkward angle.

“No…” Harry whispered, “Not again.”

Ginny was still approaching Harry when she came to a standstill. Harry stared into the empty eye sockets, desperately willing her to go away.

“I’m sorry,” Harry desperately said, his arm reaching out.

Ginny did not respond but instead turned to face the window. Horrified, Harry watched as the mangled body clambered itself over the edge and turned one more time to look at Harry.

“Nothing is what it seems,” Ginny said before she tossed herself out of the highest tower of Hogwarts.

“NOOO!” Harry lunged after her mangled corpse but it was too late.

He yelled fruitlessly before he realized he was being shaken viciously. He threw his attacker off and turned around to defend himself.

Hermione was on the ground, nursing a spot on her head where he had elbowed her. Madame Promfrey and Professor McGonagall stood in the doorway, shocked at his actions.

“Nothing is what it seems. Nothing is what it seems. Nothing is what it seems,” Harry repeated under his breath, his eyes flittering between the three ladies.

Despite her injury, Hermione stood and addressed Harry.

“Harry, you need to lie down. Please,” Hermione took Harry’s elbow and led him gently to the door. This time, Harry did not refuse her help and just continued to chant quietly to himself.

She led him to the Hospital Wing along with Madame Promfrey and Professor McGonagall. As Hermione laid him gently on the bed, she asked Harry what he was chanting.

Harry did not respond but kept chanting, “Nothing is what it seems…”

--------______________----------

Several kilometers away, two people stood on a high bluff overlooking the Forbidden Forest. Hogwarts could be seen far in the distance and both people were surveying the scene quietly.

“So what should we do?” the taller one asked the shorter one.

“We wait,” the shorter person responded.

“Are you sure that’s advisable,” asked the taller one again.

“He’s not ready yet. Potter can wait,” the shorter person responded once more.

“I’ve had enough waiting,” the taller one said as he walked away from the edge of the bluff.

“Patience, dear boy, patience,” the shorter one said, also leaving the edge of the bluff.

“I’ve tested my patience through and through,” the taller one snarled as he prepared to Disapparate.

Before he disappeared with a pop, the taller one addressed the shorter one once more, “This better work, Umbridge.”

“Oh, it shall.”

---------_________________-----------------

FINALLY UPDATE!!!

Ronald’s not done yet

Ginny still has something left to say

Hermione’s…almost back in form

Harry will be back from his tearful abyss sooner or later

More to come, stay tuned!

12. A Discussion Amongst Peers

“Harry?”

Harry groggily opened his eyes and saw a crop of red hair. He sat up as he searched for his glasses.

“Here, let me,” Ron said.

Ron handed Harry his glasses and helped him sit up by propping the pillows against the back of the bed. Sunlight poured into the almost vacant Hospital wing. Harry momentarily shielded his eyes against the harsh glare of the sunlight and turned his head to look at Ron.

“They got you into there too? Just like old times,” Ron said.

Harry almost smiled the edges of his lips quirking upwards. Harry could not seem to find his voice and motioned towards Ron’s abdomen.

“Good as new,” Ron said, lifting up his shirt to show that there were no scars at all.

“It isn’t the first time I’ve taken a bullet,” Ron joked again. This time, Harry did smile. Ron noted that it seemed extremely painful for him to smile like it was a chore of some sorts.

“Seems as if you’re causing more trouble than I did in our younger years,” Harry said with a soft smile on his face.

“Me? Outdo you? Next you’re going to tell me that Draco Malfoy will actually do something with his life. It’ll never happen, Harry,” Ron said as he pulled up a chair to sit beside Harry’s bed.

“Never say never,” Harry murmured as he lay back down on the cushion of pillows. Ron did not reply but continued to stare at Harry.

“I suppose you have questions for me?” Harry asked without looking at him. Harry was staring idly at the ceiling, his eyes out of focus.

“No one knows you’re here at Hogwarts besides everyone you’ve seen so far,” Ron started softly. He leaned forward and scooted his chair closer. The chair scratched the floor as Ron conjured a quill and parchment. The writing utensil caught Harry’s eye and he looked questioningly at Ron.

“Don’t worry. I’m not reporting you. I do, however, need a detailed account of what happened,” Ron pulled up his sleeves and Summoned a desk by his side. He set the parchment and quill on the desk and dipped it in some ink. Harry watched his practiced movements and found himself admiring Ron’s practical nature.

“Learned a few things, have you?” Harry asked.

“Didn’t make me Head Auror because I was friends with you,” Ron said with a small grin. Harry offered a tiny smile back before laying back into the pillows.

“Ready?”

Harry nodded. Slowly, he recounted every detail of his story. Ron interrupted him a few times to scribble some notes in the margin. Harry chose not to look at Ron while he recounted his story. A couple of times, a knot would grow in Harry’s chest as he told Ron about some of the more emotional bits of the past six years, three months, and twenty-three days. Ron would simply wait until Harry continued, offering no words of empathy. Ron knew that it was best not to interrupt someone while they verbalized their story.

When Harry finally finished, he let off a long stream of air. He had neglected to mention his hallucinations of himself.

It’s not pertinent.

Ron was scribbling some more notes on the several pieces of parchment that occupied the small desk. When he finished, Ron cracked his knuckles and stretched out his hand, rotating his wrist in a clockwise motion.

“Quite a story,” Ron commented while he stretched, his arms reaching to the air.

“Quite,” Harry repeated, taking a sip of water.

“What do you think of it?” Harry asked, his eyes meeting Ron’s. Harry detected a flash of surprise in Ron’s facial expression, but Ron quickly masked it.

“To be honest, I don’t really know what to make of it. It doesn’t sound like any magic I’ve ever heard of,” Ron said as he shrugged his shoulders and wrapped the pieces of parchments with a ribbon.

“Of course, there’s always been cases of people who claim that there are Alternate Universes and such but none of those cases ever had any sort of hard evidence,” Ron said as he stood up.

“Like the Rimbau and Visser cases?” Harry asked.

“Yeah…how’d you know about that?”

“I read a lot,” Harry answered simply.

Ron studied him, noticing how old Harry looked. A swell of emotion overtook Ron. All Harry ever wanted was a normal life. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Harry.

“You know what all those people in those cases had in common?” Harry asked.

“What?” Ron replied, fully knowing what all the cases had in common.

“No one believed them,” Harry said, looking up at him.

Ron looked at him solemnly for a moment before speaking.

“I believe you.”

Harry did not speak again, and Ron gave Harry a curt nod before walking away.

----_____________------

“Hold still, Mr. Potter,” Madame Promfrey said as she waved her wand for the umpteenth time over Harry’s body. Harry only snorted in disapproval. It was later in the day and he was surrounded by Headmistress McGonagall, Madame Promfrey, and Hermione Granger.

Needless to say, he was in the eye of the storm.

“I told you already, I’m fine,” Harry said with a sigh as he looked over to Hermione. She was watching intently and glared at him when he caught her eye.

“It’s best that we take all the precautions necessary Harry. Who knows what happened when you disappeared,” she commented.

“I know perfectly well what happened,” Harry rebutted. Hermione only glared at him once more and Harry gave up.

Ron walked in with a mug of Butterbeer in one hand and another stack of parchments in the other. He nodded as a form of greeting and sat down at the adjacent bed.

“Ron, tell them I’m fine,” Harry implored.

“He’s fine,” Ron said as he sipped on his drink.

“Mr. Weasley, as much as I appreciate your professional opinion, I shall be the one conducting the tests,” Madame Promfrey snipped.

Ron could only shrug at Harry as he scanned the parchments.

“So, Harry, I was looking through similar cases as yours and found a couple of close matches that could possibly help us with whatever happened,” Ron said.

Hermione crossed to the other side of Harry’s bed at quickly scanned through a couple of the parchments. Her eyebrows twitched in confusion and disapproval as she shuffled through the several pieces of parchment.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked.

“Oh, nothing. Just some interesting notes on the margin,” Hermione said. She refused to meet his eyes.

“I suppose you’re looking at the strong correlation between people who claim there are alternate universes and people who were classified mental cases,” Harry said blandly.

“No,” Hermione said, taken aback, “I was just-“

“I’ve read through all those files, Hermione.”

“How?”

“I read a lot,” Harry said.

Madame Promfrey gave one last wave of her wand and finally took a step back.

“All clear, Potter,” she said as she pushed her cart away.

“Finally,” Harry grumbled. He grabbed his shirt off the nearby desk and put it back on. Swinging his legs, Harry hopped of the bed and stretched.

“Now, Mr. Potter, I believe that it is in our best interests to find out what happened to you before we divulge your whereabouts,” Headmistress McGonagall said.

“You’re still wanted for the murder of Ginny Weasley. While we all know that you did not do it, the Press has been…a little more aggressive in their attempts to drag your name through the mud. Perhaps, Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger could be of assistance in helping you?”

Harry nodded, explicitly accepting his temporary residence in Hogwarts. Hermione and Ron were still huddled over the parchments, talking in undertones.

“Good. Now, have you two found anything?” McGonagall asked.

Hermione and Ron looked up from the parchments and glanced at Harry.

“While there are numerous cases of reported parallel and alternate universes, none have been so extensively described as Harry’s case. Furthermore, none of the cases have ever lasted longer than a couple weeks,” Hermione summarized.

“I’ve been looking at these since I talked to Harry this morning, Headmistress. I’d be hard pressed to find anyone that could accurately diag…I mean…find something relevant in Harry’s case,” Ron said, quickly covering an accidental slip of words.

Harry opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by McGonagall.

“Surely the Ministry must have some sort of record or at least theory of these parallel or alternate universes?” she asked.

“Well, yes, but nothing has been conclusive,” Ron answered.

“Also, we were looking through a couple of these files and it seems as if there has never been a case like Harry’s. The complete disappearance of the population, the absence of geological effects, the several Apparitions, there’s nothing like it,” Hermione added.

Once again, Harry started to speak, but this time, he was cut off by Ron.

“I don’t think the Ministry would back Harry with this case either. It’s not exactly strong on empirical evidence,” Ron mused.

“We need an outside source; probably someone that deals with eccentric cases,” Hermione said thoughtfully.

“Hey, I’m not-“ Harry started but was interrupted once more.

“Do you know of any such people?” McGonagall inquired.

“Off the top of my head: Wells, Hawking, Emmet Brown. But those guys are really…loony,” Ron finished by circling his ear with his finger.

“Brown is off his rocker, Hawking’s a little unavailable, and hasn’t Wells moved to Russia in some sort of magical revival?” Hermione countered as she chewed on her lip.

“Well it’s not like we’re talking about sane people here Hermione,” Ron said sarcastically.

“Ronald, please,” Hermione scoffed.

“HELLO!?” Harry yelled.

The three other people jumped in surprise. Hermione covered her mouth with her hand, and Ron fidgeted nervously.

“Harry,” Hermione gasped, “I’m sorry. I – we didn’t mean to exclude you like that. It’s just-“

“Not used to me being here, huh,” Harry finished icily.

“No, of course not – I – we were just discussing…” Hermione finished weakly.

“I could probably help, you know? Seeing as I was there and all,” Harry said with an eye roll.

“Of course,” Ron cleared his throat.

“I know you’re all concerned about me, but I’m not crazy,” Harry said.

“Harry, we never said that you were-“

“Hermione, please. I would think that I was crazy if I hadn’t been there myself. I know you’re worried about me, but I’m not crazy,” Harry said.

“It would still be…better…if we dealt with someone who is a little more eccentric,” Hermione said slowly.

“Fine, but not those people.”

The group fell silent for a moment, pondering Harry’s case. Several times, someone would try to speak but the words would fall short. Harry was quickly growing agitated from the quiet before McGonagall spoke up.

“There is…someone,” McGonagall interrupted.

The Trio looked at her expectantly.

“The Traveler,” she whispered.

Harry and Hermione looked at her blankly. Ron, on the other hand, looked at her in confusion.

“But, Headmistress, that’s just a fairy tale,” he said.

“Not necessarily,” McGonagall said.

“What is it? This Traveler?” Harry asked.

Ron sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“It’s just some story my Mum and probably thousands of magical Mum’s told their children. It’s about a wizard with extraordinary power who could jump through time and space in search for his lost love. Anyways, the story goes that the Ministry of the time deemed him too powerful and sentenced him to death.”

Ron looked up and saw Harry and Hermione staring at him intently.

“Is there more?” Hermione asked.

“Headmistress, are you serious? I mean-“ Ron started.

“Just finish the story Mr. Weasley.”

“Fine. He was sentenced to hang from the highest tower of a great castle. There was a crowd that had gathered around the base of the tower, waiting for The Traveler’s death. Only problem was before they could hang him, he jumped. As he jumped, however, he disappeared in mid-air and no one ever saw him again,” Ron finished.

“Of course, Mum put a twist at the end and concluded that he had died from too much time travel but I’m pretty sure that’s not true,” Ron reminisced before shaking his head viciously and looking at McGonagall.

“But it’s supposed to be just a fable,” he said.

“The thing about fairy tales is that there is always a colonel of truth within them. I shall take you to him tomorrow,” McGonagall said.

“Why tomorrow? Why not now?” Harry asked, stepping forward.

“Patience, Mr. Potter. He is not an easy man to find nor is he available at this…moment,” McGonagall finished hesitantly.

“This is a load of shit –“

“Harry!” Hermione gasped.

“-we’re going to visit a time traveler from a fairy tale. That’s just great,” Harry sneered, his eyes flashing.

McGonagall eyed him evenly for a moment, matching his stare. Her face was unreadable but she was clutching her wand very tightly.

“It’s been a long day, Mr. Potter, get some rest. All of you,” McGonagall left the Hospital Wing with a swish of her robe, vanishing around the corner.

As she left, Harry kicked a chair, sending it clear across the room. The resounding smash as it collided with the wall echoed a million times in the Trio’s ears. Neither Hermione nor Ron said a word at Harry’s outburst. After a few moments, Ron spoke.

“I should get going, there’s some work I need to do before I head home,” Ron said quietly. He nodded to both Hermione and Harry before he strode quickly out of the Wing.

Hermione and Harry watched as he also disappeared around the corner. Hermione let loose a heavy sigh, her shoulders dropping as the tension slowly slipped away from her body.

“I’ll go get us some food,” she said without meeting his eyes.

“You’re staying here for the night?” Harry asked.

She nodded. She squeezed his shoulder before leaving for the Kitchens.

Harry also let loose a similar sigh as he sat down on his bed, rubbing his forehead. McGonagall was right. It had been a tiring day. He continued to rub his temples but stopped as he heard a sound in the room.

It was the same dragging sound he had heard the night before. He could hear the figure approaching from behind him. Harry’s heart pounded and he shut his eyes, willing for the figure to go away.

Nonetheless, he could hear it getting closer. Her foot was dragging across the floor, making an excruciatingly loud noise in the empty Wing. Harry was whispering to himself, his eyes closed shut.

All of a sudden, the noise stopped. Harry’s whispering slowly died down, but he did not dare his eyes in fear of what he might see. After several minutes, Harry managed to gather the courage to open one eye.

As the light filled his pupil, he gasped as he saw the empty eye sockets of Ginny Potter just mere inches away from his own eyes.

--------___________--------------

Hermione climbed the staircase to the Hospital Wing, two trays of food floating behind her. She was worried about the fragile state of Harry’s mind. It seemed as if two personalities were struggling to take hold of him. One moment he would be kind and gentle if not a little afraid, but the next moment he was full of anger, lashing out at everyone. She could only imagine what the loneliness had done to his psyche.

As she approached the Wing she called out to him.

“Harry, I’ve got the food, I hope you like it, it’s the usual-“

Hermione stopped in midsentence as she entered the Hospital Wing. Harry was nowhere to be seen.

The trays clattered to the floor and Hermione broke into a run as she exited the Wing.

“HARRY! HARRY!” she yelled as she flew down the staircases. As she ran down the halls and stairs, she interrogated several ghosts on Harry’s whereabouts. None of them had a conclusive answer, however, and Hermione continued to yell out his name but stopped as she heard a small clattering noise.

The clattering noise continued and Hermione decided that it was coming from the girl’s bathroom on the second floor. She walked slowly, drawing her wand. She poked her head into the bathroom and saw Harry slumped against the far wall, throwing tiny pieces of tile that had been chipped off the floor and wall.

She watched as he would take another chip and toss it across the bathroom over and over again. A swell of emotion overtook her as she watched him. He seemed so fragile at this moment, slumped against the slightly flooded girl’s bathroom.

Deciding to face him, she entered and approached Harry’s line of sight without saying anything. He acknowledged her presence by flicking his eyes upwards at her but did not say a word.

Without speaking, Hermione sat down beside him and picked up a piece of tile. Harry watched as she also threw it across the room. They watched the piece of tile arch through the air and join its compatriots in a big pile on the far side of the bathroom.

“Your robe’s getting wet,” Harry commented dryly.

Hermione simply shrugged and smiled at him.

“I was never one for caring about the state of my robes, Harry.”

He snorted in response as he picked up another piece of tile.

“Has it really been a decade and a half since we saved you from that stupid Troll?” Harry asked, mostly to himself.

“It’s a good thing you did. Who would throw tile with you then?” Hermione joked.

Harry’s laugh echoed in the tiny bathroom and Hermione could not help but smile at his genuine happiness.

“Don’t flatter me. It wasn’t that great of a joke,” Hermione said with a soft smile.

“Maybe not. But it’s oh so true,” Harry replied.

Hermione did not answer but threw another piece of tile across the bathroom.

“I’m scared, Hermione,” Harry said.

She looked up at him and saw an expression of absolute fear on his face. She looked down at his hand before snaking her hand underneath his and clasping it. Harry was surprised at the affectionate action. It had been quite a while since someone had held his hand.

“We’ll figure this out,” she said.

Harry shut his eyes.

“I really hope so.”

“I’ll take care of you, Harry. We all will. It’s okay to be afraid, you know? We’re all afraid, Harry. Don’t shut me out again,” Hermione pleaded.

Harry did not say anything.

“Come here,” she said and patted her lap. He looked at her questioningly and she jerked her head, indicating that she wanted him to lay his head on her lap. Without knowing why, Harry acquiesced to her request.

The pair did not speak for several moments. They just laid there, Harry’s head on Hermione’s lap, facing away from her. His legs were stretched out and one hand was laid softly on her trouser-clad knee.

“When you disappeared, Harry, it changed all of us. It’s like everything was sucked out of us and we all used that energy to try to find you. There was a toll that taking its effect on all of us but now that you’re back. Now that you’re back, I think all of us are getting better. Well, at some things,” Hermione said aloud, voicing a thought that had been on her mind for quite some time.

Harry did not answer.

“Harry?”

He did not answer again, and Hermione hunched over to inspect his face. She smiled as he saw that he was snoring softly. Harry had fallen asleep.

She whispered a couple of Cushioning Charms as she got comfortable. She heard footsteps and saw Headmistress McGonagall round the corner, her wand drawn.

Hermione place a finger to her lips and pointed at Harry. McGonagall was confused for a moment before she realized the events that had caused Hermione’s yells and subsequent silence. She smiled at Hermione, and Hermione smiled back.

With a nod, the Headmistress closed the door. Hermione leaned her head back against the conjured pillow and closed her eyes.

“Sweet dreams, Harry,” Hermione whispered as she too fell asleep.

So it was in a small puddle in the girl’s bathroom on the second floor that Harry Potter finally fell into a blissful sleep.

-----___________-----

-No cliffhanger. A change isn’t it?

-The Traveler shall be the source of many answers but unfortunately ;-) many questions.

-A quicker update than usual. Hopefully the updates can come like this more often.

-Feel free to review :-)

13. Peccavi

“Harry!”

Harry snapped his head around to see Hermione beckoning towards him with her arm. Ron and McGonagall were already standing outside of the Great Hall, patiently waiting for Harry. Harry broke into a jog as he crossed the Great Hall, quickly joining Hermione as they approached Ron and McGonagall.

McGonagall was speaking to Madame Pomfrey as they both reached earshot.

“…I trust you can watch the castle for a little while? Hagrid’s returning in an hour and we should only be gone for a couple hours. If we’re not back before sunset, send a Patronus,” McGonagall ordered. Madame Pomfrey nodded in understanding before leaving the group.

“Where’s Ron?” asked Harry.

“Right there,” Hermione pointed at a speck of red hair quickly approaching the group.

“Sorry about that, got caught up at home,” Ron breathed, his hands on his knees.

“All right everyone. Off we go,” McGonagall broke into a brisk power walk, slightly amusing the Trio.

The group strode from Hogwarts, and Harry took a moment to gaze around and examine the scenery. It was different from when he had been in the Other world. The vibrancy of life seemed to reach out to him, the intricacies of a bird flying from one tree to another fascinated Harry to no end. It was amazing how many things went on in such small time.

Amazing, indeed.

Harry shook his head momentarily, trying to clear the voice. Hermione noticed this action and laid her small hand on the inside of Harry’s forearm.

“Are you alright?” she asked with a concerned visage.

“Perfectly fine,” Harry responded as he strode pass her. She frowned at his cold nature but said nothing. The group was at the gates of Hogwarts.

Once on the other side of the gate, McGonagall spoke, “We all have the Apparition point in hand, yes?”

Hermione and Ron nodded. Harry would have to do a Side-Along Apparition as to not alert the Ministry of his presence.

“If we’re all ready then,” McGonagall nodded.

Harry grabbed onto Hermione’s arm and nodded at her. She gave him a smile before looking straight ahead with a determined face. The familiar feeling of being squeezed into a tube overtook Harry, and he squeezed his eyes shut as the pressure built in his ears.

With a soft pop, he landed on bright, green grass. He felt Hermione at his side and looked up at her.

“Watch your feet there, Harry. Almost crushed me,” she admonished with a smile on her face.

“Wouldn’t want that,” Harry grumbled as he helped himself to his feet, brushing the dirt off his shoulders.

“All clear,” Ron said in an authoritative voice. He turned in a 360 degree circle as he scanned the area once more.

“Good,” said McGonagall.

Harry turned around and found himself staring at a circular setting of large stones. It was strangely quiet, and Harry stepped forward and ran his hand along one of the large, granite stones, mesmerized by the majestic setting.

“I’ve set a Muggle Repelling bubble that should last us the duration of our time around here,” Ron extracted a pair of binoculars from his pack and scanned the area.

“Excellent.”

“So where is it?” Hermione asked almost enthusiastically.

“Calm down, Ms. Granger, this matter is not one to be most excited about,” McGonagall said gravely.

McGonagall walked around the setting, examining each of the stones. Murmuring to herself, McGonagall paced the area until she found the correct rock. She frowned and spoke.

“This is the one. The Slaughter Stone.”

“Charming,” said Ron.

The Trio approached McGonagall as she chanted enchantments underneath her breath. With one last twirl of her wand, McGonagall placed the tip of her hand against the mammoth stone. As soon as the wood made contact with stone, the Slaughter Stone emitted a loud, grinding noise. Slowly, Harry could see the white outline of a door emerging from within the Stone.

“There’s a door coming out of the ground. Just when you think you’ve seen it all,” Ron muttered to himself.

Mesmerized, Hermione leaned down and reached her hand out for the wooden knob.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Ms. Granger,” McGonagall snapped.

Hermione quickly retracted her hand and blushed. McGonagall picked up an idle rock and threw the projectile at the door. As the rock made contact with the door, there was a loud hissing noise. Amazed, Harry watched as the rock melted against the stone door.

“Blimey,” Ron mumbled.

“How do we get in?” Hermione wondered.

“Repeat after me,” McGonagall wrapped her robes tightly around her. She closed her eyes and spoke in a tone vivid with clarity.

“Peccavi.”

McGonagall took a step forward and vanished through the stone.

Ron looked at Harry and Hermione and shrugged.

“Life’s short. Can’t think of a better way to go than vanishing underneath a stone door coming out of the ground,” Ron smiled at the both of them, uttered the phrase, and disappeared beneath the stone. Hermione stepped forward, but Harry stuck his arm out.

“I’ll go first,” Harry met her eyes. Hermione looked agitated for a moment but acquiesced to his request with a nod.

“Peccavi.”

Hermione scanned the area once more before uttering the phrase and disappearing underneath the stone.

She landed awkwardly on her feet on a hard surface. Instinctively, she reached her hand out to break her fall and was surprised to find a soft body bracing her fall. Hermione looked up to see Harry holding his hand, seemingly oblivious of their close proximity. He was looking far off into the distance.

For a moment, Hermione studied his face. He walked with a hunch now, his back resembling the curve of a bow. His chin was constantly tucked against his chest and gone were the vivid emotions that constantly flickered across his face. It was replaced by a smooth mask of indifference. It was as if two people lived within Harry.

The calm, collected side that was completely devoid of emotion. The mechanic being that was constantly surveying the scene around him. Then there was the raging maniac of a being that also resided within Harry Potter. Driven solely by emotion, that being, Hermione noted, was full of anger and despair.

Hermione was so lost in thought that she did not see Harry already twenty paces ahead of her. Her hand was still held out as if she were grasping Harry’s hand. Hermione hoped that the darkness hid her red cheeks as she broke into a jog.

Harry noted that the floor was colored a rusty red. The only illumination came from McGonagall’s and Ron’s wands and even that did not cast enough light to see into the oblivion. Judging from the echoes of their feet, Harry surmised that they were in an expansive cavern. He could not see any form of walls or ceilings within his vision.

They walked in single file behind McGonagall, completely silent. The only sounds were the clomping of their feet and the occasional scuffle of tiny pebbles across the rusty red floor. No questions were asked. It seemed as if McGonagall was guided by an invisible robe, and she offered no explanations for her direction.

It was only after what seemed like hours did McGonagall finally stop walking.

“This is it. I cannot cross this path,” McGonagall said.

“What path?” Hermione inquired as she stepped forward with McGonagall.

“The path to the Traveler,” McGonagall stuck her wand in what appeared to be a basin. She whispered an enchantment and the basin came alive with fire.

Fire.

The small basin shook violently for a moment before small jet streams of fire leaped into the air, arching gracefully over the group. Soon, the entire corridor was lit aflame and Harry gulped as he took in their surroundings.

They were standing on what appeared to be the edge of a dock. Harry had not even noticed the change of material that he had been walking on. He was too preoccupied with the doldrums of following the darkness.

He was indeed correct about the size of the cavern. Harry could see the faint flicker of reflection from the ceiling. The whole cavern seemed to be tinted with a red lens through Harry’s eyes. The fire, the walls, the ground were all red. The stalactites seemed to stick out of all directions from the ceiling. They were gigantic and some stretched more than twenty feet below the ceiling.

“Wouldn’t want those falling on us,” Ron whispered as he craned his neck to inspect the ceiling.

“Unnatural,” Hermione wondered aloud, “I’ve never seen them so…big.”

“You must go,” McGonagall pointed forwards.

Harry gasped as he stared at the centerpiece of the corridor. There was a towering statue in the middle of a large lake. He instantly recognized the statue. The bronze hair, the defiance in her eyes, it was indeed the same statue that Harry had encountered during his disappearance.

Hermione noticed Harry’s stunned expression. Although she was amazed at the marvel herself, Harry was visibly shaking and refused to blink. She laid a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently.

“Harry, are you alright?”

He looked at her and gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing uncertainly.

“I’ve seen this statue before,” Harry said.

“Then that is a sign, Mr. Potter, that you need to continue on,” McGonagall pointed towards the statue.

“This boat should fit you all. I gather the Traveler will be waiting for you on the other side.”

“Should we be prepared for a fight?” Ron asked.

“I doubt you need to be Mr. Weasley. Even if you were, I doubt there is anything you could do about it,” McGonagall said ominously.

“Why aren’t you coming with us Headmistress?” Hermione asked.

“It would be better if I stayed here for the time being. Be careful,” McGonagall took a step back and waved her arm towards the small dingy.

The dingy had two oars and was just big enough for the Trio to fit inside with cramped legs.

“Hermione, you take point. I’ll row. Harry…you can keep a look out,” Ron gave out the orders as he folded back the sleeves of his shirt. Harry made a slight facial expression at his job but said nothing.

Hermione clambered into the boat first, her wand drawn and in front of her. Ron plopped in behind her, handling the oars with his calloused hands. Harry fell in last.

“Do not touch the waters. I shall be here waiting for you when you return,” McGonagall took a step back and loosened the rope that held the dingy to the dock. As Ron started rowing, Harry watched as McGonagall stuck one palm face out and started whispering to herself.

“What do you reckon that’s all about?” Harry cocked his head towards the slowly fading McGonagall.

“Apparently…on dangerous missions such as these…McGonagall…seems well inclined…to withhold as much information…as possible,” Ron said between breathes as he rowed the boat.

“Don’t be so prude, Ronald. I’m sure she has a good reason for being less…forward with us,” Hermione admonished.

“Ignorance, if not bliss, often saves a good deal of time,” Harry muttered. Ron gave him a strange look but said nothing. Harry watched McGonagall fade from view and redirected his attention towards the statue.

“The statue, what do you think it is?” Harry asked.

“It’s probably the lady from the story. The one which the Traveler sought after,” Hermione concluded.

“A bloody bit dramatic, don’t you think?” Ron asked.

“It’s just…a lot like something I saw from the Other world,” Harry said.

“Perhaps it’s a clue.”

Harry looked at Hermione questioningly.

“A clue that this Traveler person can tell us more about your disappearance,” Hermione said.

Harry looked back at the statue. They were quickly approaching the statue and soon, Ron would have to start changing direction in order to avoid a collision.

As they approached a statue, Harry could barely make out an inscription at its base. He took off his glasses and rubbed them on his shirt before squinting his eyes to read the inscription.

“Beneficium accipere libertatem est vendere,” Harry said awkwardly.

Harry and Ron looked expectantly at Hermione.

“Really?” Hermione narrowed her eyes at the pair of them and muttered something about, “Inconsiderate prats.”

“So you do know what it is?” Harry implored.

Despite her anger, Hermione could not help but reply, “It means ‘To accept a favor is to sell one’s freedom’.”

“Smart fellow…this Traveler,” said Ron.

Harry did not speak again but instead gazed at the lake water. It was only now did he realize that the water was red as well. Harry watched as the oar rose from the water. Instead of coming cleanly off the oar in tiny droplets as water would do, the liquid held onto the oar and slowly dripped along its side. It was unmistakably blood.

Blood.

Harry shook his head and gave it a tap. He decided not to mention the little fact to his partners in crime.

As they passed the statue, Harry gave one more glance back at the bronze hair cascading down the statue’s back. The hairs on the back of his neck rose as the statue grew smaller and smaller. There was no denying the feeling of apprehension that crawled through Harry’s skin.

“There!” Hermione pointed her wand in front of her.

In the distance, Harry could see a large, ornate door that was also embedded into rock. As they drew nearer, Harry could see multiple carvings etched into the lines of the door.

With a soft bump, the dingy jostled against the makeshift dock and the Trio quickly ambled out of their tiny vehicle of transportation. Dusting his shoulders off, Harry quickly walked towards the door.

“WAIT!” Hermione yelled, her voice echoing hundreds of times.

Harry looked frustratingly back at her.

“Hermione, there’s answers on the other side of this door,” Harry emphasized his point with a jab of his index finger.

“Harry, I know, but please, look below you,” Hermione commanded.

Harry turned around and looked at his feet. He scratched his head as he stared at yet another odd sight.

Three rows of archaic symbols stretched from wall to wall, nearly thirty feet across. Below the rows was a standard set of Arabic numbers from one through fifty. Puzzled, Harry reached down to touch the numbers.

“Harry!” Hermione admonished again.

“Hermione,” he growled. His eyes flashed as he met her eyes. Hermione did not back down from the challenge and stood her ground, glaring at Harry. A flicker of anger passed over his face before he settled into his stage of indifference. He only nodded and stepped aside to let Hermione inspect the strange symbols.

Hermione’s face softened as she approached Harry and she gently touched his elbow before crouching down to take a closer look at the symbols.

“It seems to be a former of Higher Order Hieroglyphics. Way before the Egyptians,” Hermione stated aloud.

She crouched from one place to another, careful not to cross the rows at any point.

“They seem to be some sort of code,” she muttered.

Harry and Ron watched her as she muttered to herself, bouncing around and about the thirty foot row of symbols.

“Hasn’t changed one bit has she,” Ron smirked at Harry. Harry gave Ron a weak smile before turning to Hermione, wishing she would hurry up.

“Just one second,” she mumbled as she bounced around one more time.

“There!” Hermione rushed towards Harry and Ron excitedly.

“Remember these numbers: 6, 3, 23.”

“What?” Harry stared at her as if she had grown another head.

“Those numbers. It’s the combination needed to deactivate the protection that the Hieroglyphics command,” Hermione said in one breath.

Harry watched, stunned, as Hermione rushed around to input the numbers. The same feeling of apprehension crawled upon him once more. In the past half hour, there had been two reminders of the Other world. Harry could not help but wonder the meaning of these collective signs.

“Is something wrong Harry?” Hermione asked as she hovered over the number 23.

“No, nothing,” Harry shook his head and gestured with one hand. Hermione lowered her wand touched it against the stone.

Immediately, the three rows began to glow different colors. Each row alternated a different color until they finally stopped changing colors. The color closest to the Trio was red while the middle row was blue and the row closest to the door was a bright white.

“Is it safe?” Ron asked.

Hermione shrugged and picked up a pebble. She tossed it passed the Hieroglyphics and shrugged.

“I think so. I’m relatively sure I correctly derived the mathematical formula of the symbols, but just to make sure let’s test that theo – Harry!” Hermione abruptly ended her sentence as she watched Harry cross the border without any preamble.

Without turning around, he addressed Hermione, “The numbers were right.”

Hermione looked at Ron before crossing the border herself and stood at Harry’s side. She did not bother saying anything to him.

“So, let’s be careful here, McGonagall said we don’t have to be prepared, but let’s prepare for the worse case scenar – oh sod it all,” Ron finished his sentence abruptly as well as Harry twisted the door knob and pushed the door open.

Harry entered the other side of the door. The first thing he noticed was the sheer number of clocks that were in the room. There were of all different sizes and shapes. There were hundreds, if not thousands of clocks hung from the ceiling while various Grandfather clocks littered the floor, and Harry saw several tables of pocket watches.

The soft and sometimes not so soft ticking of the various times melded into an almost pleasant melody. Harry reached out and touched a gold pocket watch but was startled when it exploded at contact.

“Careful now, they’re a bit sensitive at these times.”

Harry snapped his head up to the center of the room. As haphazardly as the mess of clocks seemed, there was a definite order to the room and Harry stood in the middle of an aisle that led to a small, clear circle.

There stood a person of medium build wearing a pure white suit. There was nothing strange about his appearance except for his face. His eyes were larger than the average person’s eyes and his smile seemed almost too big for his face.

“Harry James Potter. I’ve been waiting for you,” said the man in white.

----___________-----

“These must be your friends! Hermione Jane Granger and Ronald Billius Weasley!” the man in white hopped towards them with a quick gait. He seemed to approach them faster than Harry thought he could and soon found himself face to face with the man in white.

“How did you know my – our names?” Harry asked.

“How is not the important question Harry. The important question to ask is when,” the man in white smiled. Harry was puzzled by the man. He looked at Hermione and tried to signal her with his eyes.

“You know our names but we don’t know yours, sir. I hope we’re not intruding, but we’re here becau-“ Hermione started.

“Because of our mutual friend, Minevra, I know,” the man in white cooed.

“I, as you might know, am the Traveler,” the man in white enunciated the word “Traveler” with a dramatic wave of his arms.

“For the sake of convenience, call me Bob.”

“Right, Mr. Bob, we just had a couple of questions for you,” Hermione fidgeted with the hem of her robe, obviously unsettled by the frivolous nature of the Traveler.

“You had questions? Or did Mr. Potter have questions,” the Traveler swung around on his toes to face Harry once more, the same annoying, clown smile plastered on his face.

“Well I suppose we both did,” Hermione concluded.

“Sir, if you could just please answer our questions and we’d be on our way,” Ron stepped forward.

The Traveler looked at all three of them before his shoulders started shaking.

Soon, the man in white started snickering. Before long, he had burst into a torrent of laughter that rang shrill in Harry’s ears.

“WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Bob laughed.

“Oh, Mr. Weasley, how I do love your jokes. Why leave? We have all the time…we could possibly ever want,” the Traveler smiled creepily at Ron. Equally unsettled as Hermione, Ron took a step back.

“I’ll tell you what,” Bob clapped his hands together.

“Why don’t you two just linger around here and taking a tour of my facilities while I talk to Harry…alone,” the Traveler’s facial expression shifted at the last word. His annoying smile dipped into a straight line and his large eyes narrowed at the pair of them.

“We’re not leaving him,” Hermione said.

Harry shook his head however and held a hand out to Hermione.

“It’s okay,” Harry said. Hermione bit her lip as she looked from Harry and Bob. She nodded slowly, unsure of what to make of Harry’s request.

“Excellent!” the Traveler clapped his hands together again and literally jumped in the air, startling the Trio once more.

“Now come this way, Harry, I’ve been absolutely dying to meet you,” Bob wrapped his long, skinny fingers around Harry’s wrist and tugged him towards the back of the room.

“Come along now.”

With one last look back at Ron and Hermione, Harry followed the man in white towards the back of the room. The Traveler opened a door in the back and led Harry into a moderately sized office with just a simple desk and two chairs.

The Traveler closed the door behind Harry as he entered and slide one, skinny finger along its edge. The door sealed with a pop and the Traveler bounded across the room to sit in the chair beside the desk.

“I bet you’re wondering why you’re here,” Bob said, his eerie smile returning to his phase. He seemed almost clown-like to Harry, with his overly exaggerated actions and eerie smile.

“You’re him, aren’t you?”

Bob smiled, the corners of his lips literally skimming the edge of his ears. His eyes were wide, and Harry could see the small pupil dilation in the man’s large eyes.

“Of course it was me, Harry.”

“I’m the one responsible for your untimely disappearance from this world over six years, three months, and twenty-three days ago.”

----_______----

-Gasp!

-Peccavi is Latin for “I have sinned”

-Never thought that statue from “Rita’s Theory” would mean anything did you?

-I told you numbers were important. They will continue to be important as well.

-Colors, colors, colors.

-As always, reviews are more than welcome!

14. Space Travel

A/N: It’s only now that I truly appreciate the Authors that can update their stories on a regular basis. After school was completed this spring, I started working 40 hours per week to pay for rent for next year of school and just haven’t had the time to write the story. I’ve gotten around to bits of pieces of it and am happy to report that I have finished the rough draft of the completed version. Anyways, on to the story!

“Oh Harry, the look on your face is absolutely priceless.”

The man in white clapped exuberantly with the same smile on his face.

Harry had his head bowed down and his eyes closed. The smile on Bob’s face faltered for one moment.

“Mr. Potter, I know the news might be a bit of a shock but I assure you tha-“

Harry attacked. A gleam of silver reflected against the light as he raised his knife high into the air. The knife came plunging down but all Harry hit was the mahogany wood of the office desk. He blinked unexpectedly and whirled around to see the Traveler clear across the room, leaning against the far wall.

The Traveler clucked softly, mockingly inspecting his expertly manicured nails.

“I expected better from you Harry,” Bob pouted exaggeratedly.

With a quick flick of his wrist, Harry sent the knife tumbling end over end at the Traveler. The man in white simply side stepped the pocket knife and watched as the serrated edge embedded itself into the wall behind him.

“Now, Harry, I assure you that I had the best intentions in mind,” Bob stepped forward gingerly although he was clearly not afraid of being harmed.

“Why did you even do it? Who are you in the first place?” Harry eyed him wearily.

“Ah, well, I suppose now would be as good of a time as ever to explain myself. As long as you don’t…attack me again,” the Traveler said with a smug smirk on his slimy face.

Harry only nodded, refusing to speak to such a devilish creature.

“I deeply apologize for all I have put you through, Potter,” Bob moved shockingly fast until he was a mere inch from Harry, his nose poking Harry’s nose. Stepping away, the Traveler continued with his soliloquy.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked in a tired voice.

“Harry, what do you know about Time Travel?” the Traveler mused with his back turned to Harry.

“You can do it.”

“Thanks, water boy, but I’m asking you what do you specifically know about Time Travel,” Bob replied sarcastically.

“It’s possible. I’ve done it before,” Harry sighed.

“Correction, you’ve done it twice,” the Traveler said slowly, watching Harry’s expression carefully.

“That’s impossible. What happened to me wasn’t time travel. There was nothing traveling about…my experience,” Harry said uncertainly.

“Let me give you a simpler explanation, Harry.”

Bob took a step back and waved his wand elegantly through the air. A crack and a hiss separated the ground below the Traveler’s feet. Harry watched with an open mouth as rivulets of blood seeped from the growing cracks. Eventually, the cracks came to a stop at Harry’s feet. A wavy line connected Harry and the Traveler.

“You see Harry, time is like a river. The path between us represents the life that has been planned for us. Sort of like your infamous prophecy if you will. The river then flows through the river bed as shown below.”

The Traveler, comically scientific, flicked his finger at the pooled blood. The blood began to flow slowly along the path, the thick layers rolling over each other in a grotesque manner.

“The blood represents the time that is currently occurring. Most people travel back into time,” The Traveler flicked his wrist and the blood arched gracefully in the air and landed in a spare rivulet at a spot closer to the Traveler.

“So when they change the order of time, a new flow is created.”

The small rivulet slowly expanded until the blood, still arched in the air, began flowing in the new direction.

“A new plain is laid out and the river of blood will continue following along this new path until another incident and another incident and so forth.”

Harry was speechless. Whether it was from the spectacle of blood or the revelation of how the universe worked he did not know, but he listened intently to Bob’s next words.

“Fortunately, I have a special gift that far exceeds the likes of some measly Time Turner. Not only can I send the flow of time further back,” The Traveler brought the river of blood all the way back to the starting point and expanded yet another rivulet, “But I can also place someone ahead of the flow of time.”

Harry watched a bloodied pebble rise from the river of blood and skip ahead until it collided with the front of his shoe. His eyes were glued to the bloody stone. He was afraid to touch it, afraid to move it.

“Unfortunately, there are some complications that occur when such an event takes place. Since the flow of time has not yet caught up to the person in question, nothing exists. It was as if, time was frozen.”

The river of blood continued to run towards Harry at a maddeningly slow pace. An onslaught of voices was ringing in Harry’s head but he could barely hear them over the pounding of his heart. The sudden revelation of his departure from time had suffocated him.

“But, of course, time will eventually catch up because the pebble cannot move without the aid of the river. When time catches up, everything will return to normal.”

The river of blood finally reached Harry’s shoes and Harry watched, entranced, as it pooled around his feet until he was standing in a wide puddle of blood.

“This is what happened to you, was it not?” The Traveler asked softly, leaning forward with the eagerness of a snake finding a mouse.

Harry nodded mutely, unable to rip his eyes off his reflection in the puddle of blood. He swayed back and forth and placed his hand out to steady himself but found that no one was there to catch him. Instead, he vomited violently into the puddle of the blood. The blood and vomit mixed into a murky substance that forced Harry to finally close his eyes. When he reopened his eyes, the blood and cracks were gone and were replaced by a marble floor.

“Sorry about the visual,” Bob said without looking sorry at all.

“Why?”

“Pardon me?”

“You still haven’t answered why,” Harry said almost tiredly.

“Why isn’t important right now Harry,” the Traveler waved his hand airily.

“Why is the only thing that’s important.”

“No, Potter, it isn’t,” the Traveler said with astounding finality.

“You see, when you have seen as many things as I have seen, you start to realize the incredulity of it all. The apathy that courses through your veins throughout the several mundane decisions you make through life is no more real than the decision between Butterbeer or Firewhiskey. Think about all the decisions you make through one unequivocally boring day of your short existence. Do you constantly ask yourself why you make those decisions?”

The Traveler began to walk back and forth, gesticulating to the invisible crowd in the Parthenon.

“You don’t ask yourself those questions because you already know the answer. You always know the answer Potter. Deep inside the clutches of your heart where you dare not look, the answer always lies there. It’s our fear that disguises it, shields us from the pain of the truth. So you need not ask me why because you already know why,” Bob paused in mid-step, his foot still raised in the air.

“What?” Harry asked, honestly bewildered.

“Dwell on it later, Potter, there are more important matters for us to discuss,” Bob snapped his fingers and a comfortable leather chair appeared out of mid-air.

“Take a seat.”

With another snap of the Traveler’s fingers, Harry felt a child slide underneath his knees and sat down rather gruffly.

“Oh wait,” the Traveler snapped his fingers again and the pair was now situated in a large coliseum of sand and stone. Harry gripped the arms of his chair as he surveyed his massive surroundings. He had seen pictures of this place in many Muggle books. They were in Rome, or so Harry thought.

“Don’t worry, we’re safe in here,” Bob said with a yawn as he crossed his legs and examined his well manicured nails again.

Harry continued to twirl in place as he took in the endless pillars of stone. The Traveler watched intently as Harry’s eyes glazed over as Harry scanned the horizon.

“You don’t seem surprised,” Bob said.

“When you live with ghosts and shadows for six years, nothing surprises you,” Harry muttered.

“Ghosts?” Bob said as he stopped filing his nails, raising his eyes to stare into two dull green orbs.

“Not part of your plan?” Harry conjectured.

“Erm…there are some…side effects…that come along with traveling such great distances in time,” Bob stuttered.

“Really now?” the sarcasm all too evident in Harry’s voice.

“You know, I came to you for answers and all you’ve done is spout some jibber jabber with some fancy wandless magic and snappy fingers,” Harry accused with multiple jabs of his pointer finger.

“I have not spouted jibber jabber,” the Traveler quoted “jibber jabber” with his fingers while he exaggeratedly rolled his eyes, “What I told you was the truth and the sooner you realize what I meant, the sooner you will come to terms to what you must do.”

“Why can’t you just tell me what you meant?” Harry asked.

“It’s not my place,” the Traveler said softly.

Harry groaned in frustration and kicked up a plume of sand.

“Immaturity at its finest,” Bob grumbled.

“I’m done with being mature and taking care of myself. I want some fucking answers and you’re going to give them to me,” Harry took a step towards the Traveler before the Traveler snapped his fingers again.

Harry’s foot was in midair, poised over the sand when the Traveler snapped his fingers. In the blink of an eye, Harry found that his foot was now suspended over water. Harry quickly regained his balance and tried to find his footing on the small rock he was on. He gazed around and was shocked to find that he was on a boulder situated near the edge of a waterfall.

“Niagra Falls!” a voice yelled from behind Harry.

Harry carefully turned around to see the Traveler situated on a similar boulder not ten meters away from him. The Traveler, though, didn’t seem particularly troubled by the locale.

“It’s not my place to tell you how the future plays out Harry. All I can do is tell you what has happened and guide you in your next step,” Bob yelled amidst the thunder of the waterfall.

“The question is, will you accept your fate?”

“It would help if I knew what it was!” Harry yelled back.

“I can help you with that!” the Traveler snapped his fingers and Harry found himself in the dark room that they had started in except that now, there was a window that faced the main chamber he had entered through.

Harry was surprised to see Hermione and Ron overlooking an object on a table. Harry waited for them to turn around and spot him but was shocked to find them immobile. There was no mistake in their statuesque appearance. It was as if they were suspended in motion, Hermione’s arm reaching towards the table, and Ron’s arm on his way to scratch his red hair.

“What did you do to them?!” Harry bellowed.

“Relax, Potter,” the Traveler snapped his fingers, and Harry watched as they immediately snapped in regular motion.

“No doubt you have heard of my prowess,” the Traveler said cockily.

“Is that what we were doing? Time traveling?” Harry asked as he pressed his hand against the glass. Hermione could be seen through the cracks of his fingers. Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away from his friends.

“Space AND time Potter. You should listen to Ms. Granger more.”

“I should have always listened to her,” Harry whispered, mostly to himself.

Bob eyed him interestedly. Harry was gazing through at the pair through the window, but his eyes were focused on one singular target. Unknown to Harry, Bob gave a genuine smile as he watched the younger man peer through the glass. Harry reluctantly shut his hand, shielding his friends from his eyes and turned to face the Traveler.

“You said you could help me,” Harry said.

“Ah, yes, that I can.”

The Traveler hurried around to the mahogany desk and opened one of the drawers. After a couple seconds of shuffling, he heaved a photo album into sight. Harry only shook his head at yet another ‘coincidence.’

“This is no mere photo album-“ the Traveler started.

“I know, I’ve seen it before,” Harry interrupted.

“Oh…have you know? The book always has had a mind of its own.”

“As I was saying, this is no ordinary photo album. Said to be created from the vessel of Merlin himself, it contains some of the most powerful magic known to your kind. All you have to do is think of a person, yourself even, and it shall predict their future,” Bob whispered.

“The future?” Harry asked skeptically.

“Yes, their future. I need not tell you the power that has corrupted those who have dared to look inside this album. It will tell you their future, but it will not tell you how to get there. It will not tell you what path you should take in order to gain that future and most importantly, the future can always change Potter. Don’t forget that,” the Traveler warned.

“Why are you giving it to me then? I mean, it’s a lot of power to bestow upon one person,” Harry asked suspiciously but inside his heart raced at the implications of the album. The Slytherin in him hissed its approval.

“I have a feeling that you will not succumb to its power until the time is right and even then, you won’t truly realize what you are doing,” Bob smirked.

Harry did not ask twice as he grasped the album and tucked it underneath his arm. He raised his eyes to meet the glittering black holes of the Traveler’s and shivered. There was something so irrevocably eerie about the Traveler.

“Good luck, Potter. Oh, and I’m sorry about that incident with you and Ms. Granger a while ago. I did not mean to harm her in the mansion,” Bob apologized.

“Oh,” Harry said dumbly, his thoughts still racing from the implications of future-telling.

“Farewell.”

Harry curtly nodded and exited through the singular door in the room. He motioned to Hermione and Ron and the Trio headed on their way out.

The Traveler watched as Hermione touched Harry’s shoulder to gain his attention, before unsuccessfully attempting to take the album from him. The Traveler continued to watch as she tucked a hair behind his ear, all the while speaking to him. Bob’s jaw tightened as he watched the Trio disappear through the doorway.

There was a rustling behind Bob, but he did not bother to look. He already knew who the culprit was.

“It worked then?” said the voice behind him.

“Perfectly.”

“Excellent. I was…afraid… that you would renege on the terms of our deal.”

“You delivered something to me and now I have delivered something to you,” Bob said dully.

“Excellent. You really are the Devil,” the person smirked.

The Traveler moved faster than light as he slammed the person against the wall, his well manicured fingers circling the person’s throat.

“I did not choose to be the Devil. It was bestowed upon me for the terrible deeds I did and continue to do. You would be wise to better choose your words Riddle,” Bob snarled.

“I…apologize…please,” Riddle gasped, his young face clenched in pain as he struggled to breath. Bob dropped him and watched him crumble to the floor.

“Great wizard or not, I need not remind you what I can do to you,” Bob said menacingly.

“Of course,” Riddle muttered the rebellion fiery in his eyes.

“Good. Off with you,” Bob ordered. Riddle sneered before snapping his fingers and disappearing.

The Traveler walked into the main chamber and to a nook tucked away in the back of the chamber. It was shielded by a thin black veil and the Traveler pulled it back to reveal the pale body of a young woman.

“I hope you realize what it took to retrieve you my dearest. The price was terrible, but it was worth it,” the Traveler smiled manically as he held his hand reverently near her face, cupping her cheek.

“What’s that my dear?” Bob held his hear next to her mouth for a moment before his smile turned into a frown.

“There is a price to pay. Potter and Granger are not unlike you and I. Their fate will be similar and that is how it shall be,” Bob said angrily. He was quiet for a moment before he leaned his ear towards her mouth again. He suddenly snapped back, his arms withdrawing to his side and a sneer present on his face.

“We shall see.”

-----___-----

-Reviews are always welcome.

-I promise I wasn’t filling up the page when the Traveler was speaking.

-The pale body behind the veil is the girl whom Traveler was looking for in Chapter 12 “A Discussion Amongst Peers”

-Yes, it’s Riddle. Like, the Voldemort-Riddle.

15. The Ghost of Christmas Past

Harry Potter sighed as he stared at the large tomb in front of him.

He was hunched over the book, the candle burning softly in the corner of the room. Slowly exhaling, Harry rubbed his face as he continued to stare down at the book. He reached out with one hand and slowly traced the outline of the book’s dirty, cracked pages. Cocking his head, he flipped a page and stared solemnly at the images that were conjured onto the pages of the all-powerful book.

“Harry?”

Harry shut the book with a snap of his wrist, the dust of the book floating idly in the stale air of the lower dungeons of Hogwarts. He turned his head to find a slightly disheveled Hermione standing in the archway of the door.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” she said as she slowly approached him, eyeing the book warily.

“I just needed to think about some things,” Harry offered with a half-smile. Hermione looked at him skeptically but did not push the subject. Without speaking, she stepped towards him and took his hand off the book.

“I really wish you would tell me what is in that thing,” Hermione held his hand as she questioned Harry with her eyes.

“It’s between me and him.”

Harry had given everyone this answer repeatedly over the course of the past week. Wanting to protect the potentially fragile futures of his friends, Harry refused to disclose the secrets of the book with anyone. As the week had worn on however, Harry found it more difficult to fend off Hermione’s relentless investigation of the worn-out tomb. There were several times that Harry had almost spilled the contents of the book to Hermione but not because of her constant questions. Harry did not know how much of a burden the future would weigh on his shoulders.

With yet another sigh, Harry eased his hand out of Hermione’s and tucked the book underneath his arm. With a slight cock of his head, he indicated that they should leave. Hermione bit her lip as if to say something but thought better of it and lead the way out of the dungeon.

“You really shouldn’t be leaving on a whim like that. Even if you do need time to…think…you should at least tell one of us. I thought by now that you would know that,” Hermione scolded.

“I don’t need to be babysat Hermione,” Harry murmured as their feet pattered noisily along the silent corridors of Hogwarts.

“No you don’t, but after…what happened to you, it’s a good idea to let everyone know your whereabouts,” Hermione reasoned.

“I guess so,” Harry said indifferently.

“Harry. I’m being serious,” Hermione exasperated, “Just tell me…at least.”

Harry stopped in his tracks and surveyed her face quietly. Her eyes looked a little bloodshot and there were dark circles underneath her eyes. While she stood straight and looked him in the eye, Harry could see out of the corner of his eye that her hands were noticeably shaking.

“Why were you crying?” his voice echoed.

Hermione pursed her lips and looked up at Harry’s strangely curious eyes. There was still a certain innocence in his demeanor that should have been eradicated long before this time. She gave him a half-smile and touched his elbow.

“We’re all just worried about you is all.”

Harry continued to stare at her for a moment before nodding and walking past Hermione into the Great Hall. Hermione dropped her shoulders as he walked past her blew an idle strand out of her eye before turning around and following Harry into the Great Hall.

“Harry, over here,” Ron was sitting with McGonagall at one of the tables in the middle of the Great Hall. Harry sat down across from Ron while Hermione took a seat next to him. On the table lay a mess of different parchments scattered haphazardly around issues of the Daily Prophet.

“I’ve been looking into some leads we’ve had with your supposed attacks on London recently. There’s one lead that keeps popping up,” Ron shuffled a couple of parchments around until he found the one he had been looking for.

“Now, I’m fairly positive that this is supposed to mean something. When this parchment was first sent in as a tip, we thought nothing of it. It was just an inordinately long ramble about the discussions between the use of goat blood or pig blood in a certain type of potion but take a closer look at it.”

They all leaned over the paper apprehensively. For a moment, they just stared silently at the parchment, as if they expected the explanation to pop out.

“Erm, Ron, I don’t see anything,” said Harry.

“Neither do I…” said a befuddled Hermione, unable to grasp that Ronald Weasley knew something she did not.

“The ingredients!” Ron exclaimed as he pointed to the row of ingredients on the right margin of the parchment.

“Wow, you’re right,” Hermione murmured.

Ron scoffed, “Not Head Auror because I suck at it.”

“Debatable,” Hermione said again.

Ron opened his mouth to speak but not before Harry cut him off.

“Sorry, you two, but I don’t quite get it,” Harry squinted through his glasses at the column of ingredients.

“Look at the peculiar way the ingredients are arranged. Now, it’s not the actual ingredients themselves that are troubling, it’s the number of ingredients!” Ron finished with a clap. Hermione rolled her eyes and leaned over Harry’s shoulder to point out the numbers.

“Six feet of Python skin, three drops of Dragon blood, twenty-three lemon seeds and on and on,” Hermione explained, “Those numbers are back, Harry.”

Harry did not speak for a moment as he digested the information. In the meanwhile, Hermione was acutely aware that her breasts were pressed against Harry’s rather formed bicep and that her breath was practically tickling his ear. Slowly, she disengaged herself from him, no matter how good it felt to lean against him. Harry seemed oblivious to all those facts.

“But what does it mean?”

Ron scratched his head this time around.

“Er, well, this is the time where we turn it over to her you reckon?” Ron asked.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” Hermione looked back and forth between Ron and Harry. They both shook their heads.

“Whoever wrote this lead gave us the key ingredients to a potion. All we have to do is look up what kind of potion uses these ingredients and we’re set,” Hermione went in full lecture mode. Harry and Ron exchanged a glance and Harry gave a rare smile.

“Some things never change do they?” McGonagall interrupted the Trio with a bemused expression on her face.

“Oh, I’m sorry Professor, we didn’t mean to exclude you,” said Hermione.

“That’s quite alright. I rather enjoyed watching the three of you for old time’s sake. There comes an age where you appreciate history,” she said.

“Well, now that it seems you have found a lead, you are welcome to use Hogwarts at any expense that pleases you. If you excuse me, there are some more trivial but necessary matters that I must attend to,” the Professor excused herself and swept out of the Great Hall towards the Headmistresses chambers.

“Well, let’s get started shall we. To the library!” Hermione looked at both of them with a gleeful smile. Ron just shook his head while Harry gave a light chuckle as they followed her to the Library.

-------------_____________-------------

“Break, break, break, break,” Ron kept chanting as Harry and Hermione toiled over a pile of books.

They had been combing through the Library for nearly three hours trying to find a potion that matched the ingredients found on the curious parchment. While Harry and Hermione had thrown themselves into the books, Ron had given up nearly an hour ago as research was never really his forte.

Nonetheless, he continued to sift through book after book, if not at a slower pace than his best friends. Since both of them were too involved in finding an answer in the books to notice anything else, Ron had taken the time to observe the pair as they hunched over the mountain of leather-covered books.

Hermione had barely changed. It seems as if the return of Harry had awoken the younger Hermione that resided within her. For so long, she had been obsessed on finding Harry that she had lost any semblance of personality. Ron could easily recount the sleepless nights she endured as she continued to fight for an answer. While he liked to think that he had fought to find an answer to Harry’s disappearance as well, he would be a fool to think that he threw in nearly as much effort as Hermione did.

Ronald Weasley had come to terms that he could not have her so long as Harry was not there with them long ago. What he did not realize until just recently, however, was that he could not have her even when the Trio was reunited. No matter what kind of effort he could possibly put in, he could not deny the unstoppable connection that held Harry and Hermione together. Even now, as he handed her a book he had finished and she proceeded to skim over it just in case he missed anything, they moved as one force.

He had come to terms with the eventual failure in his relationship with Hermione. She had unknowingly broken up with him the day Harry disappeared. Although they had never discussed it, their relationship was suspended indefinitely until Harry was found. Amusingly enough, Ron knew that she had spared not one thought to their relationship even though the Trio was reunited once again.

“Not the youngest Head Auror in three decades for nothing,” Ron said to himself.

“Found something Ronald?” Hermione asked without raising her eyes from the book she was currently reading.

“Yeah, I’ve found the desire to eat again. I’ll go grab some food while you two play researchers,” Ron sat up and stretched.

“Research is a very important job in any aspect of life Ron and the sooner we find the potion, the sooner we can chase that lead down,” Hermione quickly chastised him.

“Oh brave Captain, do not fear, I shall come back with the apple of truth to find our answers,” he answered with a mock salute and a roll of his eyes. He turned around and headed to the door. Hermione was about to fire a number of well thought out insults before she was interrupted.

“Let him go,” Harry said, “He needs a break.”

Hermione didn’t say anything but acquiesced nonetheless. She knew Harry was right.

“From what I remember, you weren’t really much of a reader during your school days,” Hermione teased, probing Harry’s boundaries.

Harry smiled for just a second before his face fell to impassiveness once more, “You learn to appreciate books when you have no…one to talk to.”

“Ah, welcome to my world…a decade and a half ago,” Hermione smiled at him. He looked up at her and couldn’t help a smile from forming on his own face.

“Hey, now, your world saved my neck more than one time,” Harry commented.

“Ah, but intelligence is nothing without action,” she countered with her own compliment.

“So that’s how it is? You’re the brain and I’m the muscle?”

“I see you as a good balance of brains and muscles. If anything, Ron would be the one with all muscle,” she pointed out.

Harry chuckled, his laughter, no matter how soft it was, bringing a wide grin to Hermione’s face.

“Well, it kind of looks like he turned out pretty well for himself.”

“I always did underestimate him didn’t I?” Hermione asked rhetorically.

“Ron was never lacking in talent, just in conviction,” Harry mused.

“I suppose,” Hermione said with a grin.

Harry smiled at her for a moment before his face became serious again. Hermione was disappointed she could only hold his happiness for a few moments.

“What happened between you two?”

She was caught by surprised and as such a bevy of emotions flittered across her face, Harry reading every one of them.

“Um…I guess we were just too worried about you to carry on with any sort of relationship. Both of our goals were to find you so…we kind of just put our relationship on hold,” Hermione explained, “It’s not something we ever really talked about.”

“I see,” Harry lowered his eyes.

“No. No, Harry, please don’t think of it like that. You know that you had no impact on it whatsoever…I mean…sure you had some impact but it was going to happen eventually anyways,” Hermione tried not to lose Harry to self-loathing again.

“What do you mean?”

“Six years is a long time, Harry, I think you know that as well. We had every opportunity to fix things between us and for whatever reason we didn’t even try. Even when you came back, we haven’t really talked about it as well,” she reasoned.

“Still…” Harry muttered.

“Come of it Harry,” Ron said as he approached the table with a tray filled with food.

“Self-deprecation is a complete unattractive trait,” Ron said to him.

“The day I worry about your attraction to me is day I hope never comes up,” Harry said unamused.

Hermione and Ron both laughed at his statement regardless and Harry eventually let himself have a small chuckle over the situation.

“Harry, what we’re trying to say is…or at least what I’m trying to say is…I don’t think we were meant to be anyways,” Hermione stared at Ron to gauge his reaction.

Ron nodded at her and she sighed in relief. Although she was fairly confident she had assessed both of their feelings towards their relationships correctly, Hermione would have been mortified if Ron had felt like there was still something between them.

“So…both of you are okay then?” Harry asked.

“Completely fine if not famished mate,” Ron said with a smile. Harry returned his smile with one of his own and reached over to get a sandwich from the tray.

Before Harry could take a bite out of his food, however, he caught movement from behind Hermione and Ron. Petrified, he watched as Ron and Hermione continued a conversation without knowing there was a presence behind them.

The same dull scraping sound was etched into his ears once more. Once again, Ginny Weasley’s mangled body approached him from behind Ron and Hermione. Her empty eye sockets, more than anything, gripped him with fear.

“Harry, is something wrong? You’re awfully pale,” Hermione commented.

“Can’t you see her? Behind you?” Harry asked bewilderedly. Hermione and Ron whirled around but neither of them could see anything but a seemingly endless row of books.

“Harry…we don’t see anything,” Ron said slowly.

Harry did not respond as he watched Ginny turn around and walk away a few paces before turning her head without moving her body. His jaw dropped as he watched the inhuman feat. He could hear Hermione and Ron calling to him as if they were miles away but he was mesmerized. Her eyeless eyes gazed upon his form once more before her head turned around and she began walking again.

Follow her.

No, she’s danger.

Follow.

The voices in his head erupted in a war against each other and Harry’s head pounded as the fight for his sanity continued. Making his decision quickly, he abruptly stood up, causing his chair to fall over. Brushing by a pleading Hermione, he followed the inhuman creature.

“Harry, what’s going on?” Hermione cried as she chased after him for he now was breaking into a jog.

“Harry, wait up!” Ron yelled.

Although Harry was now jogging, Ginny continued to walk. It was as if Harry were destined to never catch up to her. Nonetheless, he continued to jog after her, unaware of his destination.

“Where’s he going?” Ron asked.

“He’s headed to the Astronomy tower,” Hermione said, realization dawning upon her.

“But why?”

Ron and Hermione followed Harry up several flights of stairs and ascended the winding staircases of the tallest tower in all of Hogwarts castle before coming to a stop at the peak of the tower.

“Harry, please, tell us what’s going on!” Hermione shouted as Harry could not seem to register her normal voice.

“She led me here…” Harry murmured.

“Who? Who led you here Harry?” Hermione implored.

Harry did not answer but continued to stare at a fixed point on the wall. Hermione took a step towards him but Harry shushed her and held out one hand, asking her to stop. Hermione looked back at Ron but he just shrugged his shoulders.

“Hermione, give me your wand,” Harry asked after a couple of minutes. Hermione handed Harry her wand and squeezed his hand softly at the same time. Harry gave her a glance before he stared at the spot on the wall again.

Harry approached the wall and held out her wand before he tapped a serious of bricks in quick succession. Hermione gasped as the wall started to twist and form, the bricks revolving and losing depth as they revealed a medium-sized box sitting on a ledge entrenched in the wall.

“Harry, how’d you know to do that?” Ron asked.

Harry still did not reply but instead approached the box. A moment later, Harry opened the box and gasped. He did not move and stood riveted at the spot, his eyes transfixed at the contents of the box.

Finally unable to stand not knowing, Hermione approached Harry cautiously and peered inside the box. Inside were Harry’s invisibility cloak, his wand, a small corked vial, and a letter.

“Harry, can you explain?” Hermione implored softly.

Harry only shook his head, still shocked that he had his wand again. She gave a glance at Harry before reaching for the letter. Harry’s eyes followed her hand so Hermione took that as implied consent to read the letter aloud. Its contents surprised everyone in the tower.

I don’t have much time. They have found me. I can only wish that someone find this before it is all too late. I shall kill myself after I have finished hiding this letter to escape the terror I have endured in the past three days.

Harry, if you ever find this letter. I love you so much. I know you are still alive, that much I have gathered from my captors. Enclosed in the box are your Invisibility Cloak, your wand, and my memories.

I did as you said, Harry, I went down fighting, but I cannot survive much longer. I hope my efforts have not been in vain.

Love,

Ginny

P.S. It’s okay

P.P.S. Kill the bastards

Hermione finished reading the letter aloud.

------____________________------

Yes! Yes! An Update! It’s a miracle! I have not abandoned you all yet!

- Ginny’s story shall be revealed in the next chapter

- There are more to the ingredients than their coincidental numbers

- I, like God, do not believe in coincidences. Ten Harry points if you can name that quote.

- There are other things that will come into play soon, including the return of Riddle.

16. Mrs. Potter's Untimely Demise

“Harry Potter’s bitch.”

Ginny froze as she turned the corner of the Burrow and saw three masked Death Eaters. In her hands was a basket of brightly colored laundry. There was a moment as Ginny stared at the three masked individuals. She gulped and threw the basket in the air.

Curses sizzled the air around Ginny as she quickly cast a Disillusionment charm around her. Partially obscured by the exploding clothes around her, Ginny quickly retreated around the corner and sprinted towards the door leading to the kitchen. Adrenaline pumped through her veins and she barely registered the plaster being blown off a corner of the Burrow.

“NO EVIDENCE, YOU IDIOT!” one of the Death Eaters bellowed.

Ginny cursed her luck as she was the only person left behind at the Burrow that day. While everyone else had gone to the Ministry to continue their investigation on Harry’s sudden disappearance, Ginny had elected to stay home and do laundry. Harry would eventually come back.

Ginny made it to the kitchen door and muttered a quick Colloportus. There was a squelch as the door wedged itself into the frame of the house. Ginny knew it would only be a minor distraction, but she needed every millisecond to escape her hunters.

Ginny hurdled the steps two at a time, her side already hurting from the sudden onset of physicality that the situation bore upon her. Quickly reaching her room, she muttered another Colloportus and levitated her clothing drawer against the door. Not particularly satisfied with her blockade, she could waste no more time as she quickly gathered the materials she had come to gather.

She wrenched open the dresser that was kept for Harry and retrieved his wand and Invisibility Cloak. Ginny wrapped the Cloak around her and waved her wand with a crossing motion above her headboard, creating a red X that embedded itself onto the wall above her bed. With a deep breath, Ginny attempted to Apparate with a twirl.

She had closed her eyes to prepare for the familiar squeezing sensation but instead found herself still in her bedroom and the footsteps quickly ascending the stairs.

“Oh bugger all,” she muttered. Panic quickly crept up her neck as she fought to stay calm.

The Portkey!

Ginny quickly rummaged back through Harry’s dresser. Although she thought him paranoid at the time, Harry had always kept an untraceable Portkey that led to the outskirts of Hogwarts, the safest place in the world.

“Where is it, where is it,” she whispered desperately. There was a bang as the door almost blew off the hinge. Not even bothering to look up, Ginny clawed through Harry’s items until she found the object of her desire. A Golden Snitch.

Pulling the wings of the Snitch, Ginny spared one glance as the door burst open and the three Death Eaters stood in the crowded doorway.

“No!” the short pudgy one screeched. The familiar twirling sensation that accompanied the journey of the Portkey was quickly enveloping Ginny, but she could only stare in horror as the short, pudgy Death Eater leapt as physically possible as the Death Eater could and latched onto her ankle.

“Got you whore.”

The entirety of Ginny’s attempted capture only took twenty-three seconds.

There was a thud as Ginny fell on soft grass, the Death Eater still holding onto her ankle. Without really thinking, Ginny acted on instinct and smashed her heel against the Death Eater’s face.

The Death Eater let out a wail as it stopped to tear off its mask. Ginny, horrified, recognized the face of one Dolores Jane Umbridge. There was a moment as they stopped to look into each other’s. Ginny gulped and Umbridge snarled as they cast simultaneous spells. Luckily for the redhead, her Protego shield was in such close proximity to Umbridge that Umbridge’s spell ricocheted and blasted her in the face.

Already sporting a broken nose, Umbridge was actually lucky as the Reducto only took off her ear. Umbridge seemed to give up her hold for a moment as she tended to her already grotesque face. Not wasting a moment, Ginny scrambled to her feet and sprinted towards the Castle.

During the commotion, Ginny had failed to recognize that she had Portkeyed to the outer edge of the Forbidden Forest. Knowing there wasn’t much time before Umbridge summoned her comrades, Ginny was in full sprint again as she headed towards the Castle.

Moments later, Ginny broke the tall double doors that lead to the Great Hall, only to be dismayed as there wasn’t a single living soul that occupied the Hall.

“HELLO!” she yelled, not caring if the trailing Death Eaters somehow followed her.

There was a scuffling around the corner and Ginny raised Harry’s wand in anticipation. She was never more relieved to see Argus Filch’s ugly mug.

“Mr. Filch, I need your help!” Ginny yelled as she ran towards him.

“Mrs. Potter?” he asked slowly.

“Yes, yes, it’s me! Quick, there’s Death Eaters on the grounds, you must alert the Headmistress and…” Ginny didn’t say another word for Filch had raised a wand to her.

“Mr. Filch?” she confusedly inquired as she took a step back.

“Stupefy,” he whispered and Ginny’s world went black.

_____-------------------------------__________

Ginny carefully opened one eye. She could feel the ropes binding her tightly. The slight gusts of wind chilled her ears as she recognized her surroundings. The Astronomy Tower.

She tried to keep silent, but she couldn’t help the raspy cough that came out as a result of the accumulated dust in her throat. Filch snapped around at the sound.

“Ah, excellent, you’re awake,” he said.

“Sorry to disturb,” Ginny muttered.

“Tsk, tsk, always the cheeky one,” Filch smiled at her serenely.

“Always a real wizard were you?” Ginny hotly replied, glaring at her captor.

“Oh no, Mrs. Potter,” he spat out her name in disgust, “Filch was very much a Squib.”

Ginny’s eyes barely widened as she registered what her captor had to say. She bit her tongue as her mind whirred into Hermione-like action, quickly trying to decipher the events that had somehow unfolded during the day.

Before she could ask another question, the lone door of the room opened and in stepped the fat, pudgy bitch herself. Briskly stepping towards Ginny, Umbridge stared her right in the eye. Just as Ginny was about to snort out a smart remark, Umbridge slapped her.

“You really are Potter’s bitch,” Umbridge snarled, barely able to contain herself.

“Sorry about that,” Ginny nodded towards Umbridge’s ear, “I was aiming for your nose but I can’t really complain.”

Umbridge’s eyes widened as she drew her wand and stuck it against Ginny’s neck. It looked as if she were about to curse her again but stopped at the last moment. A sickly smile adorned her face as she gazed upon Ginny’s rebellious form.

“It’s a pity we couldn’t have a little…fun…before we killed you,” Umbridge said with the same disgusting smile on her face.

Ginny could barely contain the bile rising in her throat as Umbridge leaned in towards her and licked her cheek. The purple tongue lingering far too long.

“Mmmm….delicious Pureblood,” she whispered against Ginny’s ear. Ginny shivered violently and closed her eyes, concentrating on Harry in her mind.

She could practically hear Harry’s voice in her head, “Just concentrate, you don’t need a wand for everything.”

Meanwhile, Umbridge continued her monologue.

“Yes, it’s such a pity for you to go to waste, if only – “

“La la la la la la. Spare me the terrible monologue. You’d think Voldemort would have taught his cronies a lesson in fine speeches, not that he was any good at it. The ruddy bastard,” Ginny spit in Umbridge’s face to punctuate her retort.

Umbridge calmly wiped the saliva off her face with the back of her hand and smiled back at Ginny.

“You have no idea how much I love feisty women,” Umbridge’s smile grew even larger if possible.

“Now, now ladies, there are more…pressing matters to attend to,” Filch said.

“Concentrate,” said Harry’s imagined voice inside Ginny’s head.

Despite Harry’s soothing voice in her head, Ginny found it difficult to concentrate as she watched Filch transform. The silver hair sprouted from his otherwise greasy hair. The pale skin in direct contradiction to Filch’s grotesque tanned form. There was no mistaking the identity of the person who posed as former Caretaker Argus Filch.

“Malfoy,” Ginny said calmly.

“No ugly nicknames? No bitter spit of disgust?” Malfoy taunted, “I would expect a little more than that Weaslette.”

Ginny didn’t respond and only glared at him. Malfoy sighed in response to her glare.

“You know I liked old man Filch. He wasn’t too bad to us Slytherins. Didn’t take much convincing from Umbridge over here when she invited him to her house,” Malfoy droned on.

Concentrate.

Ginny still didn’t respond, resolutely glaring at her captors. Malfoy pouted at her lack of response.

“Potter must have really had you whipped. Shame he won’t be around to see his wife die. He’ll just have to hear all about it,” Malfoy continued.

Concentrate.

Ginny’s reaction was almost impossible to see if Malfoy hadn’t been paying such close attention. She didn’t say anything but he saw the clench of her jaw as he spoke.

“I hope you realize what happens now,” Malfoy said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Concentrate.

“Why is it Dracoooo,” Ginny drawled out his name, “that the bad guys always have to monologue before their plan blows up in their face?”

Draco’s eyes narrowed at her statement but before he could react, a burst of raw energy exploded from Ginny, knocking him and Umbridge into the stone walls that surrounded the tower.

Ginny gasped as the ropes around her fell loose to the floor. It felt as if all of her magical reserves were drained. She couldn’t stand up and her arms felt like lead. It took every ounce of energy that still resided within her body to drag herself to the lone table in the room. On the table, curiously enough, were a parchment, quill, Harry’s wand, and his Invisibility Cloak.

Barely even able to breath, Ginny performed the last acts of her life as she scratched out a letter and hid Harry’s remaining affects with a complicated spell. Gasping as the last of her energy was drained from her, Ginny lay limp on the cobblestone floor of the tallest tower of Hogwarts, unable to move. She was physically and mentally drained but felt a grim satisfaction as she accomplished her last deed.

Ginny blacked out again.

When she awoke for the last time of her life, Ginny felt the rush of wind grow stronger in her ears. With what little energy she had left, she grudgingly opened her eyes and was unsurprised to find herself peering over the balcony of the tower. She knew this time would eventually come.

“Everything else taken care of?” Umbridge spoke from behind her.

“Everything set. It’ll look like a suicide,” Malfoy responded.

Ginny fidgeted just slightly and no doubt gave away her awakening.

“I wanted you to be awake for this,” she heard Malfoy’s voice in her ear.

Without any other warning, Malfoy shoved her in the small of her back and Ginny fell from the tallest tower of Hogwarts. There was a sickening crunch as the force of gravity finally brought her to the ground, but she was not dead yet.

The whole encounter lasted six minutes.

As she felt the last of her life draining from her through her internal organs, Ginny had no power to speak. However, she did manage one last gasping thought.

I love you Harry, always have. I just wished you loved me back.

With that last thought, Ginevra Potter moved on from this life.

_____-------------________

The Trio emerged from the memory, speechless. Hermione fell the ground, her shoulders shaking from emotion. Ron leaned against the wall, disbelief etched into every fiber of his face.

Harry Potter stared onto the horizon as if a realization had finally dawned upon him. The sun was setting on the horizon, the blood red familiarly casting its shadow on the tall timbers of the Forbidden Forest. Even the sun was weeping for the youngest Weasley.

Harry could not cry, however, his tears already drained from him. He was tired of crying, tired of feeling useless, tired of regret.

Harry turned around to face his two shaken friends and leant a hand to both of them. Needless to say, they were both surprised by Harry’s seemingly calm visage.

“We’re going to have to move quickly if we have to kill Voldemort again.”

-----_________________-----

So today is March 31^st. With exams coming up, this probably won’t be updated for another month or so (I know, I know, I’m already slow with updating). Hopefully though, I can redo the last couple chapters of this story and finally end it!

QuickQuill notes:

- Harry’s lack of Invisibility Cloak from Ch.7: Dead or Alive is finally explained

- Harry’s epiphany isn’t completely unfounded.

- The other character with Umbridge form Ch.11: Off the Edge is indeed Draco Malfoy

17. The Ace in the Hole

Harry was staring out the Gryffindor Common Room window, his hands clasped behind his back. His stance was oddly relaxed as he gazed out onto the horizon, as if he was seeing something that did not quite exist. He closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, the air ballooning inside his lungs and filling his chest. Just as deliberately, he exhaled and let his chest fall, opening his brilliant green eyes again.

Just outside the Common Room was a hustle and bustle of moving bodies. Spurred by Ginny’s memories, the Trio had contacted Shacklebolt and informed him of the situation. Convinced of Harry’s innocence, Shacklebolt immediately granted Harry a full pardon for his supposed actions. With the new evidence presented to him, Shacklebolt immediately called for action against the at large Dolores Umbridge and Draco Malfoy. It was the largest summoning of Aurors since the War had ended nearly seven years ago.

Although Hermione and Ron continually told Harry that he was exonerated in the eyes of the public, much to the dismay of Rita Skeeter, Harry had only responded with a curt “thank you” before attending to the specifications of his plan to defeat Riddle. Puzzled by Harry’s rather nonchalant reaction, Hermione had thoroughly interrogated him, but it was to no avail. Harry simply avoided answering her questions and assured her that he knew what he was doing.

Indeed, Harry had been hard at work with some of the top level Aurors, Ron included, in a drawn up plan to bait Riddle into coming out early. Ron correctly deduced that Riddle had too big of an ego not to an answer a challenge. Harry thoroughly agreed but it was not Riddle that held his main concern.

With Harry’s plan successfully drawn up, it was only a matter of mobilizing the Aurors and gathering the forces needed to fight a Riddle who was still drawing up his plans of an exaggerated return. Ron had hammered out some of the strategic elements of the attack that Harry had drawn up while Hermione continued to research the potion on the tip they had found.

As Harry gazed out onto the sunset, he idly rolled his newly discovered wand in his hands. The rush of magic that came tingled through his arms when he first held his wand had happened again. Devoid of magic for much of his disappearance, it took Harry a couple of days to finally regain his touch. While he was not yet as adept as Hermione or Ron in terms of their magical ability, the avalanche of information he had read while in the Other world allowed him to open up abilities that had not even been developed during his first fight with Voldemort.

Harry heard the opening of the portrait behind him and already knew who it was. The soft heels to toe footsteps were coming towards him, but Harry did not turn around to address his visitors. There was a pause in the footsteps and Harry could tell that Hermione was right behind him. He was surprised, however, when Hermione suddenly wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek on the back of his neck.

Harry inhaled sharply at the close contact. Hermione had hugged him plenty of times before but her soft touch indicated that there was a different set of circumstances surrounding this rather intimate position. He could feel the soft puffs of her breathe beating against his shoulder blades, and he was even more acutely aware of her chest pushing against his back.

“Did you know Ginny was jealous of you?” Harry asked softly, still not turning around.

Harry felt Hermione slowly nod her head on his back.

“I think she just accepted it after a while. She knew what was always…between us.”

Hermione did not speak and instead tightened her grip around his waist, pushing further into his back.

“I was so guilty, Hermione. I thought, well, after I came back and she wasn’t here…” Harry did not finish his sentence and instead grasped Hermione’s wrapped hands.

“Harry, I don’t think even we knew what was between us,” came Hermione’s muffled voice.

Harry finally turned around and looked down to meet Hermione’s eyes. She was looking up at him without any judgment or pity. She simply gave him a calming look, easing his nerves and allowing him to speak.

“Why would she stay with me if she knew? I mean I loved her but…” Harry’s statement hung in the air, letting Hermione answer his question.

“I don’t think you quite understood how much she loved you Harry. How much she absolutely worshipped you,” Hermione stared straight into his emerald eyes, unflinching in her conviction. Harry could not stand meeting her eyes and looked away at his feet. Hermione grabbed his chin softly and turned his head so he was looking straight at her.

“You don’t choose who you love Harry.”

“And if I choose to love you? Would that be wrong?”

“Do you?” Hermione implored with her eyes. Harry paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he took a gulp.

“I can’t help it.”

Harry pulled away from her and leaned against the window, staring resolutely at the ground. He looked absolutely mutinous as he steadfastly refused to meet Hermione’s eyes.

“She said it was okay,” Hermione reasoned as she took a step to him.

“But is it really? It just doesn’t feel right,” Harry finished.

Hermione stopped moving towards him and turned pale. She, too, stared at the ground in front of her. There was a moment in which Harry grinded his jaw, his body and mind absolutely battling to retract his statement.

You must tell her!

You must keep her safe!

No, tell her!

She does not deserve this!

TELL HER!

“I understand Harry,” Hermione said softly, her chin tucked against her chest and her hair blocking out her eyes.

“Sorry, we should go,” Harry pushed himself away from the windowsill and walked towards the portrait. Try as he might, he could not keep out the dull roar in his ears. He felt as if his mind was fractioning from the sheer effort to block out the furious battle inside his head.

This is unfair to her and to you!

Just say it Potter!

Just as Harry was about to leave the common room, Hermione spoke up from behind him.

“If things were different?” Hermione left the rest of the question in the air.

“I don’t know,” Harry replied tersely. He paused, his hand against the portrait. Battling out the turmoil in his skull, Harry wrenched open the portrait door and exited. Hermione did not follow him.

---__________________________---

“They’re ready for you Harry,” Ron placed a hand on his best friend’s shoulder.

Harry peeked out and nodded grimly. There were at least three companies of Aurors waiting for Harry to present the full scale plan. The three companies inside the Great Hall formed at least one battalion of Aurors under Harry’s command. The other battalion of Aurors was stationed outside of Hogwarts. Ron had already given them their briefing as they were under his command.

“Where’s Hermione?” Ron asked, carefully observing Harry.

“She already knows the plan. Doubt she’ll be here for this,” Harry replied shortly.

“Did you two have a fight?”

“No, just a disagreement Ron,” Harry straightened his robes, carefully organizing his presentation papers.

“Why Harry?”

Ron looked at Harry, his hand still placed on his shoulder. Ron was fully aware that today was not the first time the pair had argued about the status of their relationship. Shortly after they discovered the true nature of Ginny’s death, Harry had become increasingly severe to anyone who tried to talk to me. Since Hermione was the one who spoke to him the most, she bore the brunt of his wrath.

“Now’s not the time for this Ron,” Harry muttered as he adjusted his robes in preparation of his speech.

“Harry…I know she likes you,” Ron said softly.

Harry whipped his head around; his glasses flying askew as he bewilderedly stared at his best friend. His best friend did not look upset nor did he look jealous in any manner. He simply had the face of someone who knew the straight facts. As Harry’s mouth snapped up and down, mimicking speech, Ron simply nodded his head.

“If you’re worried about me, you know you have my go.”

“It’s not that Ron, just…no.”

“But you do like her then?”

Harry grimaced, slightly upset that he had so easily fallen into Ron’s trap. Ron had become eerily good at these sorts of interrogations.

“Just not the time and place for it.”

“Ironic don’t you think?”

Ron gulped, repulsed yet astonished by his own bravery. Harry narrowed his eyes at him and turned his body so he was fully facing him. Ron instantly recognized this position as a fight or flight mechanism and prepared himself for the worst. Instead of hitting him as Ron expected, Harry gave a small chuckle and slapped Ron’s shoulder.

“What would I do without you?” Harry said still chuckling.

“Gone mad, but I think you already have that part down,” Ron said bewildered. Harry just smiled again as he readjusted his robes one more time.

“Come on Ron, we have a speech to give.”

Ron was not so eager to stray from the conversation about the status of the relationship between his two best friends, but he was given no other choice and just swallowed the bitter pill of defeat. Casting a quick Sonorus on the pair of them, Ron led the way out to the podium where he and Harry would address the Aurors.

Harry gulped nervously as he approached the center of the stage. As he entered the room, the entire battalion of Aurors snapped to attention and followed him as he crossed the stage. He was never comfortable in the presence of large crowds.

“At ease, gentleman!” Ron barked, walking briskly to the podium. Harry still marveled at the change of persona when Ron had to address his co-workers. The Aurors simultaneously placed their hands behind their back and widened their stance, following Ron’s orders the second he said them.

“You may sit.”

As Ron started his section of the speech, Harry tuned out and scanned the crowd. Rows and rows of young faces paid close attention to Ron’s instructions. Harry noted that the number of Aurors had exponentially grown since he had been gone. Ron had told him that the death of Voldemort had led to an influx of young folks who had fought during the war and wanted to use their skills to continue combating dark forces. Indeed, Harry noted that there were even more Aurors than during the war against the dark wizard Grindewald.

“…we know that Voldemort has risen again from piecing together various intel related to Malfoy and Umbridge. How he has come to rise again is still in question from the Research directors. Any questions or suggestions you may have can go straight to them…”

Harry tried to scan for familiar faces in the crowd. Once or twice he thought he spotted a couple of people who were in years below his during Hogwarts, but he was mistaken on all counts. He came to a sad realization that he had been gone for nearly half a decade and the world had moved on without him. While the first emotion he felt when realized what had occurred, the second emotion he felt was one of abject relief.

“…using information that we have received in the past week, Harry Potter and myself have formed a plan that could possibly bait Voldemort into coming out before he has accumulated full forces. As we all know, Plan A always goes to shit so…”

Harry scanned the crowd for one the face he simultaneously hoped and dreaded to see. There was a constricting in his chest as he thought of his female best friend. There was a gnawing feeling that the more he avoided her, the more she would pester him until he would reveal the true nature of his isolation. He dreaded that moment.

“…so I’m going to hand the reigns over to Harry. Pay close attention to what he has to say. It is imperative you follow his exact directions…”

Ron turned to Harry and nodded, signaling for him to step forward. Taking a deep breath, Harry stepped onto the podium and gazed out onto the Aurors who were paying extra attention to what the Boy-Who-Disappeared had to say. Just as he was about to speak, his throat locked up, no doubt parched from nervousness. There was a pregnant pause in the room as the Aurors confusedly looked at each other. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ron mouth “Go” which caused Harry to finally speak.

“Um, hello everyone. I’m Harry Potter,” Harry heard the soft murmur from the crowd but pressed on, “I know all of this seems quite sudden, but I assure you, Riddle is out there again.”

As though Ron’s confirmation was not enough, the crowd finally sagged as he they heard the boy who killed Riddle the first time announce his return.

“But, I have a plan,” Harry paused to summon a drink of water, his throat becoming increasingly parched even from the small amount of talking he had done so far.

“For as long as I’ve known him, Riddle has had an insurmountable ego. No doubt dying must have changed some aspects of his ‘life’ but Riddle can’t shy away from a challenge. He’s like a giant shark you see. If he smells blood in the water, at the very least he is going to investigate it. He might poke and probe and try to trap you but eventually, if you stare him right in the eyes, he will not back down. He’s too stubborn to step away,” Harry finally gained his steam as he clutched the sides of the podium.

“That’s why I’m going to use myself as bait. With any luck, Riddle, at the very least, will send feelers out there and with the amount of Aurors we have at our disposal, we can capture his feelers. Once we capture the right person, we can quickly mount an attack with our two divisions. I don’t know if Riddle has made Horcuxes again,” Harry took a deep breath, “But with the amount of force we have on display, we can at least take him down.”

There was a murmur as Harry paused within his presentation. Harry watched as the Aurors looked at each other in surprise at Harry’s announcement. Harry glanced at Ron who nodded at him encouragingly. There was still no sight of Hermione.

“What if no one comes?” a voice called out from the crowd.

“They’ll come,” Harry held a grim face and his voice was very short as he spoke his next sentence.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

---_____________________________________---

“Harry?”

Harry turned around as he released an owl into the air. Hermione was standing in the entrance of his dormitory, fiddling with the edge of her robe.

“Yes Hermione?” he answered softly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it to your presentation. I got a little caught up,” Hermione said, her head ducked down.

“It’s alright, you knew what the plan was anyways, however much you disapprove of it,” Harry allowed himself a small grin.

“It’s dangerous Harry. You know that,” Hermione took a step towards him and brushed a strand out of her eye, finally meeting his.

“Nothing that hasn’t ever happened to me before,” Harry responded candidly.

There was another awkward pause. Harry thought that he had enough awkward silent moments throughout this day to last a life time but it was not over. Hermione was shuffling her feet like she usually did when she wanted to say something important. Harry knew he was going to have to instigate the conversation.

“What is it?” he asked without any malice. After a moment, Hermione spoke.

“I’ve broken down the different reasons why you wouldn’t want to enter a relationship,” Hermione spoke in a very matter of fact tone, looking just slightly embarrassed, “Logic points to the fact that you loved Ginny and that you wouldn’t love anyone else. But what you said to me this morning changed that. I know you care about me like I care about you Harry.”

Hermione lifted her head to look Harry straight in the eyes. Harry, on his part, stayed unnervingly calm and responded with a nondescript stare of his own. Hermione, though slightly bothered by his lack of reaction, continued on her course.

“I know that you’d feel guilty if anything happened to me. I know that you’d want to push me away to keep me safe. I was with you when you pushed Ginny away remember?” Hermione waited for Harry respond, but he simply kept staring at her.

“So why can’t we be together?” Hermione’s voice cracked despite her efforts to stay calm. She would not cry.

Harry eyed her in the dark, his emotions simmering. Hermione was staring at him with unshed tears in her eyes, a desperately pleading expression on her face. He knew that it took a lot of her to say these words to him. He knew that Hermione would never leave herself this vulnerable unless she had no other option. Hermione hated setting herself up for disappointment yet she could not avoid it.

While Harry desperately wanted to say something that would divert her attention from the current matter at hand, he knew that he had at least owed her a valid explanation for keeping her at an arm’s length. The pair of them had grown unknowingly closer ever since they had come back and Harry was not immune to the realization that he had long-held feelings for his best friend; feelings that had been buried and trapped inside a coffin.

Now, though, there was no way to avoid the oncoming train that was the topic of their relationship. With the Weasleys seemingly clearing the way for them, Harry could no longer deny the feelings that arose within him when he saw Hermione. While he indeed loved Ginny, he could not help the sheer force that attracted him to Hermione. To put it simply, he inexplicably felt safe around Hermione. Her calming presence kept him sane and while he had not received the unconditional love that most children would have from their parents, he knew he had that sort of love from Hermione.

He could not deny her an explanation no longer.

“I’m going to die.”

“No.”

“The plan tomorrow is just one big hoax.”

“No, Harry, shut up.”

“I needed the Aurors so it looked as if at least I had tried to escape.”

“Harry SHUT UP!”

“I’m so sorry –“

“SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!”

Hermione was stomping on the ground, wailing at the top of her lungs. Discretely, Harry whispered a Silencing charm on the door before anyone else could hear Hermione’s tirade.

“HOW DARE YOU. HOW DARE YOU MAKE DECISIONS THAT AFFECT ALL OF US!”

Harry took a step towards her, but she did not seem to notice. She was in her own little world, ranting and raving like an absolute lunatic at Harry.

“DO YOU EVEN REALIZE WHAT YOUR DISAPPEARANCE DID TO US?”

Harry grabbed her shoulders and tried to get her to look up at him but it was to no avail.

“DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT DID TO ME?!”

Harry was saying her name to catch her attention, but Hermione kept stomping her foot and waving her arms, reverting quite quickly to how a small child would react.

“DAMMIT HARRY POTTER YOU ARE NOT LEAVING ME NOW!”

At this point, Harry simply gathered to her. He could hear Ron’s head in his voice saying that he was hugging her simply because she would not be able to yell into his chest. Burying his head in Hermione’s bushy hair, Harry kept murmuring, “I’m sorry.”

“Let go of me!” Hermione’s muffled voice said as she jabbed at his ribs. Harry winced but kept his hold tight on the girl in front of him.

“It’s not my decision,” Harry’s voice was the one that cracked this time. Hermione finally tore herself away from him and glared at the dark-haired boy.

“Well then whose is it?” her voice tore at his emotions. While Harry could see that she was still absolutely furious, she seemed to have reigned in the petulant side of her personality in lieu of Harry’s information.

Harry walked over to the tomb that had been sitting on the desk beside his bed. It was the same tomb that the Traveler had given him when the Trio visited him. He lifted the book and carried it over to Hermione, flipping to a certain page at the same time.

“The book told you?”

“Sort of,” Harry muttered, carefully cradling the book in one arm while he flipped the pages with his other arm.

“The book tells you the future. It tells you what is going to happen to you. Tells you what can happen to everyone,” Harry finally settled on a page. He took a deep breath as he held the book out so Hermione could see the page he had turned to.

“This is what happens to me.”

Hermione watched as Harry’s name was cursively inscribed on the top of the page. There was a solitary picture on the page, its edges held in place with a white binding. Hermione watched as a young Tom Riddle stepped forward into the picture. Raising his wand, Riddle brought it down quickly and a jet of green light flew towards Harry. Harry did not try to defend himself from the Killing Curse and collapsed when the jet of light hit him square in the sternum. The picture then ceased to stop playing, its final image of a young Riddle standing over Harry in triumph. At the bottom it read, “Harry Potter: 1981 – 2007.”

“What good is that?!” Hermione yelled at him, wiping the tears from the corner of his mouth, “You die, he lives! That can’t be how it happens!”

“You’re always right, Hermione,” Harry grinned solemnly at her as he turned to another page.

Again, Hermione watched as Tom Marvolo Riddle was cursively inscribed at the top of the page. The photo then showed young Riddle just after he had defeated Harry. He was laughing, smiling at the corpse below him when his body suddenly seized. At first, Riddle looked around as if he had been shocked. Then, flames started licking at his feet, but Riddle did not move. Horrified, Hermione watched as the flames engulfed the former Dark Lord. Riddle could not seem to escape the blue flames, his skin burning and melting as he was engulfed in the conflagration. His body twisted grotesquely, his mouth open in an eternal scream as he finally collapsed. The bottom read, “Tom Riddle: ? – 2007.”

“I don’t know how it happens, or what happens to him, but all I know is that’s how it has to happen. If it doesn’t happen that way, then Riddle could live. Riddle won’t know what hit him,” Harry said to her, the burden finally off his chest.

Hermione had her hand to her mouth as she stared from the picture of Voldemort’s corpse to Harry’s tired face. It seemed beyond incredulous that Harry would have to make yet another sacrifice so that those who he loved could live.

“No…No….No,” Hermione whispered.

“That’s how it has to be,” Harry said, the weight of the world seemingly on his shoulders yet again. Hermione stopped chanting and looked at Harry. Every part of her being wanted to fight him. She wanted to tell him that it was not supposed to be him. She wanted to tell him that they could find another way. She wanted to tell him that they could be together forever. But she knew that it was not to be. The smartest witch of her age already knew the answer as soon as Harry had told her, “I’m going to die.”

So instead of pleading for Harry not to do what he was about to do tomorrow, Hermione looked up at Harry through watery eyes, leaned forward, and kissed him softly on the lips. Harry could taste the salt on her lips. He could taste the strawberry chap stick she used. He could taste the pumpkin juice that she had drunk for dinner. Throwing caution to the wind, Harry wrapped his arms around her midsection pressing himself fully against her.

Hermione groaned at the contact and wrapped her arms around his neck. She felt as if she were being devoured alive. She could hear her heart thrumming so closely to Harry’s chest. Her legs were quivering and her arms shaking from the nervousness of the situation.

Harry could finally feel the voices leaving his head. The constant warring of his personalities had been pushed to the brink of his mind and all he could feel was Hermione. All he could feel was her lips against his, her arms around his neck, and her body pushed against his. Hermione pulled away from him and looked straight into his bright green eyes.

“Let me have this then Harry.”

---________________________---

Harry was standing over the book in just pajama bottoms. His eyes were glued to the moving picture within the book, his hands planted on either side of it. Rubbing his eyes, he sat down and buried his head in his hands. Sighing deeply, Harry managed to tear his eyes away from Riddle’s body and looked at the necklace beside the book.

Harry had found the necklace before he had married Ginny. He had come to find out that the necklace was his mother’s when she was still alive. It had a simple gold chain and a small H hanging off the edge. He intended to give it to Ginny after they married, but he had held back for a reason unknown to him until now.

“Harry?” Hermione’s voice called out to him from his bed.

Picking up the necklace, Harry made his way to his bed. Sitting down beside Hermione, he smiled at her and caressed her cheek with his knuckles.

“Hey there,” Harry said softly. Hermione smiled at him as she wrapped the blankets around her naked body.

“What were you doing up?” Hermione already knew the answer to her question as she laid her eyes on the forsaken tomb. Harry just shrugged at her and propped himself up so she was lying comfortably against his chest.

“I wanted to give you this,” Harry dangled the chain in front of her. Without a word, Hermione grabbed the chain, sitting up in the process. She inspected it as if she would inspect any new item presented to her. Twisting and turning it in her hands, Hermione finally lifted the chain above her head and let the gold wrap around her neck.

“Looks beautiful,” Harry winked. Laughing, Hermione slapped his arm as she lay comfortably back into him.

“It was my mother’s,” Harry kissed the top of her head as he wrapped his arms possessively around her. He felt Hermione stiffen and grasp the H between her fingers. She rolled it around her fingers for a moment before letting it go and turning to Harry. She gave him a soft kiss on the chin and cupped his cheek in her hand.

“I love you Harry.”

Harry smiled at her, already knowing what she was going to say when she looked at him. He had an uncanny way of knowing what she had to say as soon as he saw her eyes.

“I love you too Hermione.”

More than satisfied with his answer, Hermione put her head back on Harry’s chest.

“Sleep up now, big day tomorrow,” Harry murmured.

“I know,” Hermione said. What Harry could not see that Hermione was wide awake, her eyes peering into the dark shadows of the room.

---_________________---

A/N: Only two more chapters and an epilogue to go! Harry’s not the only one with an ace in the hole. Hermione isn’t going to let this go down without a fight. Riddle has a couple tricks up his sleeve too and we have not seen the last of the Traveler.

As always, review review please!

18. The Fork in the Road

Harry Potter fidgeted with his robe as Minister Shacklebolt talked to the enormous crowd gathered in Diagon Alley. Although he knew the outcome of what was to happen in the next couple of hours, Harry was still nervous in anticipation. His speech had been well advertised throughout the Wizarding world via radios and word by mouth. As a result, scores and scores of people had gathered in Diagon Alley to see the return of the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry was sure that it was enough to attract the attention of Riddle. With any luck, Riddle would have the fortitude to mount a full-scale attack and Harry could end it sooner rather than later.

Ron had already informed him that there were at least two suspected Death Eaters trying to hide themselves within the crowd. With a multitude of undercover Aurors interspersed within the masses, they were in excellent position to capture the Death Eaters should they need to. The battalion of Aurors under Harry’s command were on standby should the situation escalate, but Harry knew that they would be of no use. Everyone but Hermione thought that this operation would be a lure and capture situation. None of them knew that it would be Harry that would be captured instead of an important Death Eater.

Toying with the hem of his robes once more, Harry found himself unable to keep Hermione out of his mind. Last night’s impromptu revelation had finally released Harry from the invisible pressure that had been bearing on him. He could not deny that he always harbored the tiniest of feelings towards that bushy-haired girl. While his marriage with Ginny gave him a sufficient excuse to rid Hermione from his mind without feeling guilty, he could not fully dispel her. Her persistence had seemingly attached itself to his personality.

During his rather prolonged stay in the accelerated universe, Harry often thought about his former wife and his current best friends. Thinking back, Harry realized that he often listened and trusted Hermione’s personality within him than anybody else’s. Over time, Harry realized that he had stopped hearing Ginny’s voice entirely. The imprint of Ginny’s memory obviously left less of an impression than even Ron’s memories. This realization caused so much guilt within Harry that he continued to deny any feelings towards Hermione even after he had returned.

Groaning, Harry sat down on a nearby chair and buried his head in his hands, “What am I doing?”

The revelation of the book had also relieved some of the pressure that had been sitting so insistently on Harry’s chest. At the same time, though, it also brought into the forefront the rather sordid ending his life was supposed to have. To Harry, it had never been a question of whether or not he would actually sacrifice himself; he always would. The question burdening Harry was if the Traveler actually told the truth about the contents of the book.

For all Harry knew, the book was all an elaborate trap to deliver Harry into the hands of the now-young Tom Riddle. Bereft of any other information than that which was given to him by McGonagall, Harry had no choice but to trust the Traveler. There was no doubt the Traveler had immense power. That much had been revealed to Harry during his visit. It was just a matter of his true intentions. Harry had no choice but to trust the seemingly all-powerful being.

“Well, well, well, look who we have here,” said a familiar voice from behind Harry. Turning around, Harry once again saw his doppelganger counterpart leaning against a wall. The slicked back hair and impressive sneer immediately revealed which personality this character was.

“Don’t look too forlorn Potter, you’re the one marching to your death,” the doppelganger said with a yawn.

“I’m not forlorn,” Harry muttered with an eye roll.

The sneering Harry chuckled at the eye roll and leaned his head out to look at the gathered crowd. He whistled in an impressed manner and gave exaggerated thumbs up. This action only served to induce another eye roll from Harry.

“Quite a crowd you’ve drawn to witness your rather exaggerated demise. I like a big ego,” the doppelganger drawled as he paced in front of Harry.

“And here I thought I had gotten rid of you,” said Harry while he furiously rubbed his head in an effort to rid of himself of his imaginary counterpart.

“Not yet you haven’t!” exclaimed another voice from the shadows. Yet another doppelganger stepped from the shadows. This one had a much more positive flare about him and Harry instantly recognized him as the doppelganger he had dubbed James after his father.

“I would say it’s nice to see you too James, but it really isn’t,” Harry still gave himself a rather wryly grin.

“You can’t get rid of quite a handsome creature,” James said with a wink.

“And I thought I had a big ego,” drawled the other Harry who was currently filing his nails.

“Hey! Wait a minute!,” Harry interrupted before James could retort, “I’ve never seen both of you at the same time!”

The sneering Harry and James glanced at each other incredulously while Harry bewilderedly stared back and forth at them. Sighing, the pompous Harry flipped his hair and addressed the real Harry.

“Look, Potter, it’s not like there are any rules for your insanity. You made this situation up, not us,” the doppelganger gestured between himself and the benevolent Harry.

“I’m not insane,” Harry said.

“You’re talking to two replicates of yourself who don’t exist to anybody but you. It’s a little insane Harry,” James said as lightly as he could.

“Okay…fine,” Harry relented, “Why did I bring both of you here then?”

“Well isn’t it obvious numb skull? You’re at a crossroads,” said the Harry who was still filing his nails.

“I’m going to call you Dick, if that’s alright with your highness,” Harry sarcastically dubbed his doppelganger.

“You can call me Jane if you want too, doesn’t really matter,” said Dick unperturbed.

“You’d be Harry’s friend Dick,” said a snickering James. Both Harry and Dick looked at him with the utmost serious expression on their faces and at the same time said, “Really?”

“Well I thought it was funny,” said a clearly amused James.

“Well it’s not and can you just stop being other me’s and tell me why I’ve summoned you both here!” Harry finally stood up and crossed his arms as he glared at the replicates.

“You’ve summoned us here you twat, you tell me,” Dick replied in a bored tone.

“You just told me you’re here because I’m at a crossroads!”

“I did?” Dick replied in genuine confusion.

“Yes!”

“Can’t really recall it, can you?” Dick asked James. James shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

“Arggggh!!!” Harry plopped back in his chair with a thunk and buried his head in his hands once again.

“This is hopeless,” he muttered.

“Never been more correct,” Dick said.

“It’s not hopeless,” James said.

As soon as they spoke, the puzzle seemed to click in Harry’s head. It was as if his turbulent mind had finally come to a slow stop. While his head usually felt like there was a bludger constantly whizzing around within its confines, he found himself oddly settled as he looked up at the two doppelgangers.

“I get it. You,” pointing at James, “represent my good side and you,” pointing at Dick,”represent my bad side.”

“Rather over simplified, but I guess that’ll work for your immensely lacking intelligence,” replied Dick.

“And I brought you here because I’m confused as of what to do,” Harry continued.

“Pretty impressive logic if I do say so myself…which I do,” James replied with a snarky grin on his face.

“Because last time I saw you,” Harry pointed at Dick,”I tried to commit suicide.”

“Which ended up being the solution to all your problems,” Dick said.

“But it wasn’t! It just so happened that time had finally caught up to me. You’ve been trying to kill me all this time!”

“Well I wouldn’t say kill,” Dick looked very offended, “It’s just bloody depressing in your mind.”

“Maybe that’s true. But I probably shouldn’t have listened to anything that said to kill myself,” Harry pondered.

“I didn’t want to say I told you so, but I did,” James nodded, agreeing with himself.

“But you never told me so! But this whole time you were keeping me sane and alive. So I should listen to you! What should I do?” Harry continued like a runaway freight train as he gave a monologue to himself.

“Well,” James made a show of rolling his shoulders and fluffing his shirt as he prepared his answer, “If it were up to me. I’d send Riddle straight back to the hell he created.”

“You’re right, that’s what I should do,” Harry said with a slightly maniacal grin on his face.

“Well, that’s what I would do,” James pointed both hands at himself.

“But you are me! So that’s what I should do,” Harry reasoned.

“Logical.”

“Bollocks if you ask me. But fine, walk off into your glory of death,” Dick mocked.

Looking up at his doppelgangers Harry said, “I think I will.”

In the next blink of his eye, James and Dick were gone. Breathing hard from the rush of words that had come from his mouth, Harry sat back down, slightly dazed from realization.

“This is what I meant to do,” Harry said to himself, “If I do this, Riddle’s gone forever.”

Outside, there was a loud uproar and a thunder of claps. The flooring was shaking from the thunder of feet and cries of the crowd. Harry dimly heard Shacklebolt announce his name. A loud clap in the sky indicated that fireworks had been fired up.

“Harry, are you ready?”

“Very much so.”

---___________________________________---

Hermione Granger buried her head in her hands as she hunched over a mess of books. Kneading her temples, she sighed as she scanned line after line of unhelpful material. Despite her best efforts, Hermione could not find the unique potion which contained the ingredients of the important tip that Ron had found in his Auror notes. At the very least, it might shed some light on Harry’s sudden need to sacrifice himself yet again.

Hermione gulped as she tried her hardest to hold her emotions at bay. Refusing to acknowledge that Harry’s sacrifice was the only option, Hermione had refused to attend his grand reveal. Harry had not so much as blinked when she told him that she refused to see him killed in front of her. He simply nodded, gave her a kiss, and walked off into the sunrise.

“That smarmy prick,” Hermione muttered as she opened and closed yet another book.

“What am I missing?” she said aloud.

“Perhaps you’re not looking in the right place?” a voice offered from behind her.

Whirling around Hermione was surprised and glad to see her old Transfiguration professor. Motioning for Headmistress McGonagall to come over, Hermione pulled out a seat and sat in the adjacent chair.

“I see that you haven’t quite found what you’re looking for,” McGonagall gave the brunette a wry look.

“I’ve looked all over Headmistress. I just can’t quite find anything that’s useful to me!” Hermione threw her hands up in the air in mock desperation as she blew a strand of hair out from her face.

“What is it that you are looking for exactly?”

“Some sort of potion that combines all the ingredients we found that one day, remember?” Hermione held up the parchment of ingredients she had written down.

“Yes, yes I quite remember. I’m assuming that the potion is something that involves Harry?” McGonagall inquired.

“You could say that,” Hermione thought of the book that foretold Harry’s death and shivered.

“Hermione, I’ve known you and Harry for what it seems to be ages. War has a way of making time insensibly long. During this time, I’ve gotten to know when you and Harry seem to have a disagreement. I’ll never forget the fight you two had when Sirius sent him his Firebolt. Am I correct to assume that you two are disagreeing about something right now?” McGonagall asked her former student with a raised eyebrow.

“I have to help Harry, Headmistress. If I don’t do something right now…” Hermione trailed off.

“I thought he was just delivering a speech?” McGonagall looked confused.

“That’s what everyone else thinks too.”

“Hermione, I don’t mean to intrude, but what is going on?”

Hermione recanted the story of their trip to the Traveler and the book that Harry received. Omitting the personal facets of last night’s experience, Hermione did her best to explain what was to happen to Harry. With every word Hermione spoke, McGonagall continued to grow paler and paler.

“Are you sure that’s what you saw?” McGonagall leaned forward with a grave expression on her face.

“Yes.”

Headmistress McGonagall stood up with an agility that did not indicate her old age. Hermione stood up in simple reflex to the sudden movement and stared alarmed at her older companion.

“We must act with quick haste Miss Granger. Follow me,” McGonagall swept out of the library without looking back.

“Headmistress! What’s going on?” Hermione gathered her materials and raced after her surprisingly quick friend.

“Mr. Potter is not the only one that has visited the Traveler before,” McGonagall said as she navigated the changing staircases.

“You mean…you too?” Hermione asked as she took a breather on the moving staircase.

“When I was younger, an event rose that required me to visit the Traveler. We cut a deal. He would…retrieve my sister and I would do something for him in turn,” McGonagall momentarily slowed down as she told her story.

“He asked me to fetch an item of great importance to him. The only problem was that it was guarded by one of the three remaining creatures you call the Cerberus.”

“They exist?” Hermione asked as she grew more bewildered.

“Yes and they are quite dangerous. Fluffy, if you remember, was simply the benign version of Cerberus. The real Cerberus is quite…powerful,” McGonagall turned another corner and Hermione recognized they were heading towards her office.

“I discovered that the Cerberus was seemingly unaware of one type of creature. Funnily enough, cats did not irk the creature, hence my Animagus form,” McGonagall continued.

“I’m sorry to interrupt Headmistress but what does this have to do with Harry?”

“It wasn’t until you told me what Harry was doing that I realized that one of the materials was the exact thing I retrieved! Three drops of fused dragon blood!” McGonagall quickly moved the gargoyle out of the way and took the steps quickly.

“And the Traveler has been waiting all this time just to use it?” Hermione connected the dots slowly.

“You must understand Hermione; the Traveler has been there for quite a long time. I’m sure a couple of decades were nothing to him.”

The pair entered the Headmistress’s office and McGonagall motioned for Hermione to take a seat. Never one to wait for the answers to come to her, Hermione stayed standing and followed McGonagall to a back room.

“I was quite like you when I was your age,” McGonagall gave Hermione a fond glance before she resumed her search, “I had to find out what the dragon’s blood was for.”

After a few moments tossing down several books from a bookcase, McGonagall finally found an old, battered looking diary.

“I found just one potion that could use three drops of fused dragon blood. At the time, it didn’t have any relevance to me whatsoever but I copied it down anyways. I knew there was something odd about the Traveler’s request,” McGonagall flipped the pages of her old diary and finally found the page she was looking for. As soon as she started reading, McGonagall’s face paled considerably.

“Professor? What is it?” Hermione’s hands fidgeted at her side as she desperately wanted to read McGonagall’s notes. With her mouth slightly ajar from surprise, McGonagall slowly handed the diary to Hermione. Feeling more than at touch of impatience, Hermione snatched the diary from the Professor’s hands and started reading it.

“Professor? This is a potion to remove an essence of a soul. Why would the Traveler want to remove Harry’s soul?” Hermione stared at the Headmistress.

“Not Harry’s soul.”

“That can’t possibly be!” Hermione’s eyes were wide and her grip tight on the diary, imploring the Headmistress to rebuke her.

“What else can it possibly be?”

---_______________________________---

The thunderous roar that greeted Harry shook the ground beneath him. Banner of various mottos billowed high above the crowd. The sky glittered from sizzling fireworks, lighting up the already bright afternoon to near nuclear levels. Harry shielded his eyes as he approached the podium, giving a little wave to the crowd. Chants of ‘Potter’ reverberated through Diagon Alley and did not quell when Harry reached the podium. Squinting at the crowd, Harry could make out several kids who had adorned lightning bolt temporary tattoos. Once or twice, Harry blushed from the sight of the bare breasts that greeted him.

“Hello!”

Harry’s greeting was unheard over the dim roar of the crowd, even with the effects of a Sonorus. If anything, the crowd had reached a fevered pitch and the wails of men, women, and children were quickly making Harry deaf.

“HELLO!” Harry tried a little louder. This time, the crowd heard their savior speak and roared in approval, another round of fireworks bursting in the sky. After a few more minutes of Harry insisting that the crowd be quiet, the decibel level was finally low enough for Harry to speak properly.

“Thank you all for coming today,” Harry started.

“Thank you for returning!” called out a nameless voice. The crowd roared in approval and a rousing chorus of ‘Potter the Savior’ started up from the belly of the crowd. It took another couple of minutes before a hush fell over the crowd again.

“Anyways…” Harry launched into his prepared speech, stopping every couple of minutes because of the repeated applause. All the while, Harry scanned the crowd for any indications of possible Death Eaters. Twice he thought he caught the eye of a familiar, devilish face, but he was mistaken each time. As Harry ended his speech to numerous catcalls and more blistering fireworks whistling overhead, he moved on to the question and answer portion of the press conference.

“Mr. Potter, is it true that the Ministry is covering for you in the case of Miss Ginny Weasley’s death?” asked an oddly familiar voice. There was a gasp as all heads swiveled to peek and crane at such a forward question. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Shacklebolt motioning to some of his Aurors.

“I had nothing to do with that!” Harry answered as he tried to find the voice in the crowd.

“Is it not true then that you are in fact behind the recent rash of Dark activity?” asked the same voice. Eventually, Harry could finally see who the provoker was.

“No, Rita, I’ve not been here so it couldn’t possibly be me,” Harry replied coldly as he glared at his nemesis.

“Then isn’t it curious that you refuse to answer where exactly you have been?” the crowd parted for Rita Skeeter, clad in an ugly brown dress, Quick-Quill in full action. There was a wide circle around her as the onlookers ogled at her boldness.

“It’s not something I can quite disclose right now. Perhaps you’d like to create an alibi for me? You are quite imaginative,” Harry sneered. The crowd gave a nervous chuckle at Harry’s retort, their eyes flickering back and forth from Rita to Harry.

“I think I’ll just ask one of your friends Mister Potter. A Miss Granger maybe?” Rita grinned devilishly as she twirled her wand by her ear.

“What did you say?” Harry glowered as he stepped from behind the podium to confront Rita.

“I said…Expelliarmus!” Rita’s aim was dead and true and hit Harry squarely in the hand. His wand flickered into the air as the crowd gasped at the turn of events.

”Accio Hary’s wand!” Shacklebolt roared. The wand immediately turned in mid-air and flew towards Shacklebolt, who collected it neatly. Harry gave Shacklebolt a thankful look before turning his head to find Rita. Only, Rita was no longer there.

“Portkey trace,” Shacklebolt muttered in Harry’s ears as he pulled the younger man to his feet. A group of Aurors had raced onto the stage and blocked the crowd’s view of Harry. Grasping Harry’s arm tightly, Shacklebolt pulled him off the stage and into the back room.

“That must have been a warning signal. You’ve done your job Harry, let’s get you to the Portkey and we can – “ Shacklebolt could not finish his sentence as a loud explosion rocked the stage.

BOOM! BOOM!

The percussion waves knocked the pair of them off their feet, Harry’s already deafening ears being more affected. For a moment, Harry could only blink rapidly as he tried to fight the pain quickly gathering in his head. Rolling over, Harry slowly got to his feet, the ash threatening to bring him to his knees again.

“Shacklebolt!” Harry yelled over the dim roar of the panicked crowd.

“I’m here Harry!” boomed the older man.

As Harry stumbled to Shacklebolt, he caught a flash of lights from outside the crowd. Flashes of red and green were alight in the sky, but Harry suspected that they were not the fireworks that had been released earlier.

“They’re coming Harry!” Shacklebolt yelled over the shouts of jinxes and curses.

“My wand,” Harry coughed, holding out his hand for his wand.

“Don’t worry Harry, we can hold them off for a few moments while the Aurors collect themselves. This certainly wasn’t a tactic we were prepared for,” Shacklebolt positioned himself near the door as he waited for incoming assailants.

“Shacklebolt, I’m sorry,” Harry said with a forlorn face as he now know how Dumbledore had felt all those years ago.

“For what Harry?” asked a confused Minister.

“Petrificus Totalus,” Harry waved his wand at Shacklebolt and the former Auror was caught surprised and snapped like a board to the ground. Moving Shacklebolt to a safe location, Harry simply sat back in his chair and waited for the Death Eaters.

“I’m sorry, sir, but this is the way it has to be done,” Harry muttered at the corner where Shacklebolt glared at him.

The yells and shouts grew closer and closer until Harry could almost feel the spells sizzling outside the drapes. Finally, a masked Death Eater whipped the drapes away and spotted Harry sitting in the chair. The Death Eater froze in surprise; no doubt that Harry was not even defending himself. Harry resolutely glared at the Death Eater but did not raise his wand.

“Catch Potter,” the Death Eater threw an object at Harry and Harry reflexively responded. As his fingers closed around the Snitch, Harry felt the familiar tug at his naval.

Clever Tom.

---______________________________________---

Harry felt himself fall onto pebbled rocks, the sharp stinging in his hands indicating that he had more than a scratch. Groaning Harry turned on his back to see a young Tom Riddle smirking at him.

“I can’t tell you how utterly proud I feel right now Harry. I just can’t help myself,” Riddle grinned as he knelt down to slap Harry in the face lightly.

“I can’t even pretend to hold it back, I just feel like giving a monologue,” Riddle gave an honest grin as he stared at a grim looking Harry.

“It’s that feeling you get when you’ve thought of every single facet of your plan. I didn’t quite realize how ignorant I was before,” Riddle said.

“I doubt that much has changed,” Harry muttered.

“And the former me would have laughed in your face and said that I’ve thought of everything. But I’ve realized the error of my ways now,” said a completely lucid Riddle.

“How completely oblivious I was to the single-mindedly devotion to defeating you. I did not even bother to think about all the options and possibilities that I could have explored. I was so convinced of my imminent victory that I did not bother looking into all the loopholes that could have defeated me. That last trick of yours was marvelous,” Riddle was no longer looking at Harry but staring out into the sky.

It was in this moment that Harry realized he was at the same small lake where he had first encountered his doppelgangers. His heart pumped just a bit quicker at the realization that Riddle and all of his Death Eaters were quite close to Hogwarts.

“Which reminds me…Rita!” Riddle yelled.

A Death Eater-clad Rita stepped out from the circle surrounding Harry and Riddle. Bowing her head, Rita kneeled at the feet of Riddle. Turning around, Riddle winked at Harry as he twirled the Elder Wand in his fingers. Riddle quickly casted a quick disarming jinx on Rita. Harry’s eyes widened as he realized the implications of Riddle’s actions. Riddle caught this movement and smiled at the black-haired boy.

“I know! How could I overlook such a simple loophole? Sometimes, in this past couple of years, I’ve just laughed at the stupidity of my actions. Let’s test this thing before I talk a little more now,” Riddle mocked himself.

“Come on Harry; hit me with your best disarming spell!” Riddle lazily held the Elder Wand in his hand.

“No Riddle,” Harry dropped his wand. Riddle quickly summoned Harry’s wand and snapped it on his knee. Harry made a choking sound as he saw his wand snap yet again.

“No precautions you see? I know I can curse you when you’re defenseless, but I have to make sure,” Riddle reasoned in a calm fashion, “Since I’m the proper owner of the Elder Wand now, let me see how it finally feels.”

Riddle pointed his wand at Harry.

This is it.

Harry clenched his hands into fists, breathing hard through his nose. Whilst before he had faced Riddle with effervescent calm, Harry was suddenly nervous as he stared at the tip of the Elder Wand.

“Avada Kedavra!”

Harry braced himself for the jet green light. Even behind closed eyelids, Harry could see the glow of the Killing curse. After a few moments though, Harry had the distinct feeling that he was still alive. Opening his eyes, Harry could see the unmoving body of Rita Skeeter lying on the ground. Riddle was standing above her with a triumphant expression his face.

“It feels marvelous,” Riddle looked at his hands with a maniacal expression on his face. Exhaling he turned to Harry and gestured at Rita, “Can’t have any loose ends, especially one as rebellious as her.”

“Oh Harry,” Riddle smiled at him as he approached him again, “The one thing I did take into account during my rather - impervious state was the belief that I was inconceivably defeated. Did you know that when you cast the Killing curse an imprint of the person you killed is left on your body?”

“It’s how you create a Horcux. The soul of the body has to travel somewhere. It’s why that foolish Ministry deemed it ‘Unforgivable.’ Can you imagine walking around with all those souls in yours? Even I couldn’t do that,” Riddle shook his head as he paced before Harry.

“But I knew something of…love Potter. Even before you killed me…the first time, I knew how I could use it against others; particularly our mutual friend, the Traveler. He obsessed over that woman of his. Without explaining it to you in great detail, sufficient to say I found her. A certain set of rules did not allow the Traveler to simply get her so I created a back-up plan. Probably my only useful plan during my first reign,” Riddle did not look like he even noticed Harry was there now.

“I’d explain more but something I learned is that when I monologue too long, it gives you a chance to do something incredibly stupid and with great stupidity comes a sheer amount of luck. So let’s just say that book of yours isn’t exactly the end all of all things,” Riddle grinned as he revealed his trump card.

Harry’s eyes widened a fraction, but Riddle did not pause. A flash of green indicated that the Killing curse had been cast. In the blank of an eye, the whole world disappeared in front of Harry.

After a few moments, Harry opened his eyes to find himself staring directly into the sun. Laying his hand on the ground to push himself up, Harry felt the soft, grainy feeling indicating sand. Looking around, Harry was befuddled to realize that he was on a beach.

“First a train station now this,” Harry muttered, still angry from Riddle’s revelation.

Looking into the distance, Harry spotted a fleet of rowboats in the distance. Shielding his eyes from the sun, Harry waved his arm at the specks in the distance.

“They can’t see you Harry!” called out a voice from behind him.

Whirling around Harry could only drop his jaw at the sight before him. Out from the jungle bracing the beach was a grinning Sirius Black. Clad in what looked to be leather boots, leather trousers, and a sparse white shirt, Sirius looked quite happy to see his godson.

“Sirius?!?” Harry bewilderedly asked.

“I suppose there’s a lot I have to explain,” said a grinning Sirius Black.

---______________________________________---

---_______________________________________---

Thank you for all of your great reviews! Your thoughts are always appreciated and I’m glad for all of that have stuck through the long pauses and delays in the story. Only one more chapter left!

19. The Day The Whole World Went Away

“So you mean to tell me you’re not dead?”

“No,” Sirius sighed, “The curse my dearest cousin threw at me wasn’t the Killing curse. The resulting blast did force me into the veil, however, which has landed me here,” Sirius waved his arms at the sand at his feet.

Harry Potter and Sirius Black were sitting side by side on the edge of a beach looking towards a beautiful ocean. They were far enough away from the tide that they would not get their feet wet but close enough so the sand was slightly muddy. Harry noted without great concern that he did not feel as if the sun were giving off any blaring heat.

“And here is limbo,” Harry grumbled.

“Something like that,” Sirius smiled at him. Harry gave him a half smile back as he skipped a pebble over the pristine water.

“Oh don’t be such a grump. Aren’t you glad to see your godfather?”

“I am glad to see Sirius, it just puts a damper on my mood to know that you’re still dead,” Harry gave him a critical look.

“Shit happens,” Sirius said with a cocky grin. Harry simply gave him an incredulous look.

“Why are you dressed like a blooming pirate anyways? You look like a movie Dudley would always watch,” Harry waved his arms at the boots on Sirius’ feet.

“Well you get to pick what you look like out of here. I always thought I’d be a dashing pirate,” Sirius fluffed up the frills of his shirt in an attempt to make Harry laugh. Harry gave just a slight chuckle.

“Whew, good to see you’re not a total deadbeat yet,” Sirius’ grin grew wider.

“You’re killing me here Sirius,” Harry smirked back.

“There it is!” Sirius and Harry laughed in unison at their rather corny wordplay.

“Good to see you laugh a little Harry. I know from good sources you haven’t been doing much of that lately,” Sirius grew a little more somber.

“Yes well, Riddle did succeed in killing me did he not? Not much to laugh about back in the world of the living I reckon,” Harry skipped another pebble, watching the little ripples form as the rock skimmed the water.

“I suppose not,” Sirius relented.

There was a pause in their conversation as they both examined the beautiful landscape in front of them. For Harry, it was hard to believe that he was dead yet again. Yet even in his second death, it seemed as if the powers that be did not want to let him go quietly into the night. Grumbling for the umpteenth time since his short arrival at the beach, Harry picked up another pebble and skipped it along the water. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was in limbo, Harry reckoned he could live here forever.

“What are we waiting for again?” Harry asked a quiet Sirius.

“We’re waiting for the person who’s going to help you save the world again,” Sirius stated in a matter that did not allow for any other options. Nonetheless Harry frowned at the statement.

“I don’t get it Sirius. Why is this happening? I thought I fulfilled the prophecy when I killed Riddle.”

“Yes you did Harry but sometimes things aren’t even that easy. Sometimes, other people intervene in our plans,” Sirius cryptically said.

“The Traveler,” Harry sighed.

“One in the same. Never trust people with great power Harry. The responsibility burdened by such power isn’t easy upon everyone.”

“How was I supposed to know that? From my point of view, the Traveler seemed to be some omniscient figure that could travel through space and time with relative ease. Last I checked, omniscient beings aren’t exactly easy to corrupt,” Harry reasoned.

“Very true,” Sirius agreed, “But do you not remember the story of the Traveler?”

“I didn’t take notes if that’s what you’re asking,” Harry sarcastically replied.

“For all of the great things love can bring us, love can also turn into an unhealthy obsession,” Harry looked at Sirius as he spoke with curiosity in his eyes.

“The Traveler loved a woman who, in his eyes, was taken away from him before the appropriate time. Blessed with such extraordinary powers, he was convinced that he could revive her but a terrible price. He kept traveling back in time using his powers but found that no matter what he did, the woman would always die at some point or another. He would save her from a falling branch one day but the next day she would be pushed off the edge of a balcony. No matter what he did, she would always die,” Sirius spoke in a clear voice over the breaking waves of the ocean.

“As a solution, he froze her in a medium of time that rendered her, for all intensive purposes, dead. Yet she was not dead…just not living either.”

“That’s awful. It sounds like Riddle,” Harry said in a shocked voice.

“Indeed, the similarities are quite apparent. The powers that be deemed this to be an unforgivable act and sentenced him to an eternity in ferrying the dead from one life to another,” Sirius finished the story.

“The powers that be,” Harry paused as he weighed his next words, “Is that who we’re waiting for?”

“More or less,” Sirius shrugged. Although unsatisfied by his godfather’s response, Harry did not press the issue.

“So you’ve just been here this whole time?” Harry asked with a modicum of guilt tinged in his voice.

“Oh Harry, don’t be such a drama queen,” Sirius grinned at him, “Time isn’t something that’s easily measured in these lands. For me, the events that have transpired since I went through the veil and now are not as long as you think it would be.”

“I see.”

Another silence lapsed upon the godfather and the godson. Falling into thoughts of the Traveler and Sirius, Harry’s eyes glazed over as he lay back on the sand. It was not until he felt Sirius give him an affectionate squeeze on the shoulder that Harry realized his godfather had been staring at him for quite some time.

“I’m proud of you Harry. You did everything right,” Sirius said with watery eyes.

“Not everything. Couldn’t save everybody,” Harry responded dully.

“You can’t control who lives and who dies Harry. When their time is up, their time is up,” Sirius responded in kind. Sitting up, Harry gave his godfather a curious look that was laced with just a little bit of anger.

“Do you really believe that?”

“I didn’t before. But you learn a lot of things when you’re finally dead, not that you can have that experience,” Sirius winked at him one watery eye.

“I don’t believe that.”

“It’s not in your nature to Harry. You will always, for the rest of your life, try to save as many people as possible. It’s what makes you so great,” Sirius looked fondly upon him.

“I failed in the end didn’t I?” Harry asked bitterly.

“Harry, you failed because someone who can control space and time manipulated a series of events that predated even your parents’ births. You’re only human Harry, stop beating yourself up because you lose to someone that can control time.”

This statement efficiently silenced Harry. Knowing that he had finally gotten through to him, Sirius took his hand off Harry’s shoulder and reclined until he was staring up at the azure sky as well. After a few minutes of silence, Harry spoke.

“You didn’t do too bad either Sirius,” Harry said, a ghost of a smile on his face.

“I like to think so,” Sirius replied. Harry simply laughed at his godfather’s response.

For the first time it what felt like eons, Harry felt himself relax. His shoulders dropped and he exhaled deeply as if he was ridding himself of all of the negative thoughts in his mind. He felt his diaphragm relax as the knot in his chest finally released. Tears involuntary sprung out of the corner of his eyes, but Harry did not wipe them away.

“Must be nice here,” Harry commented.

“It is. I’d like to get a move on if your majesty wouldn’t mind though,” said a voice from behind Harry and Sirius.

Harry and Sirius awkwardly climbed to their feet and dusted the sand off their shoulders as they turned around to face the voice. When Harry finally gathered his bearings, his mouth dropped at the person in front of him. An absolutely stunning brunette clad in nothing but a bikini stood in front of them. She had the type of effortless beauty that seemed unreal. Harry and Sirius noted that she was incredibly well proportioned.

“Who’s she?” Harry whispered to Sirius.

“One of the powers that be,” Sirius whispered back without taking his eyes off her beautiful form.

“Powers indeed.”

“Great powers,” Sirius agreed with a slack jaw.

“Hello Harry. It’s nice to finally meet you,” the lady gave Harry a genuine smile. Even her voice radiated unmatched beauty.

“Uh…yes,” Harry was still momentarily shocked.

“And hello Sirius. You’ll be glad to know that your stay here will not go on for much longer,” the lady smiled at Sirius as well.

“You can change that though right? A little longer wouldn’t hurt,” Sirius said with a slightly hopeful look in his eyes. The lady gave a small laugh which caused Harry and Sirius to make simultaneous sighs.

“Oh Sirius, your time here is almost over, your purpose fulfilled. We just have one more thing left on the agenda,” the lady gave both of them a look.

“And who are you?” Harry finally brought himself to ask. The lady gave both of them a radiant smile and it took everything in Sirius’ willpower to not throw himself at her feet.

“You may call me Fate.”

---_____________________________________---

“So you mean to tell me, this was just a plan the Traveler created so he could be reunited with the girl of his?” Harry asked.

“More or less,” Fate answered as she walked the path of the beach, Harry and Sirius in tow.

“Could’ve just asked me,” Harry said, “Would have saved him a lot of trouble.”

“It’s not that simple Harry,” Fate replied.

“When we took away the Traveler’s wife, we summoned a powerful wizard that could prevent a being of magnitude such as the Traveler from retrieving his wife. You may have heard of him, Nicolas Flamel.”

“Of course,” Harry nodded.

“You of course do not know that it was Flamel who apprenticed Dumbledore in the uses of dragon blood, but Flamel knew much more than that. Using an ancient magic so embedded into the earth, Flamel made it near impossible to retrieve the girl. We placed restrictions on the Traveler that did not allow him to do anything that could save the girl. It was up to you wizards and witches to save the girl should you choose,” Fate explained.

“So the Traveler can’t directly interfere in the life of a person?” Sirius asked.

“Not directly, but should the person seek out the Traveler, it allows him to use some of his powers to influence them. Riddle or Voldemort as you may call him, recognized the advantage of retrieving the girl from the Traveler. He sought out the Traveler during the years after his graduation from Hogwarts and struck a deal that would set into motion a chain of events that eventually lead both of you down this path,” Fate kept on walking without sparing a glance behind her. Sirius nudged Harry and pointed at Fate’s perfectly sculpted derriere.

“I see you Sirius.”

Sirius grinned rather cheekily while Harry coughed violently in embarrassment. Harry jabbed Sirius in the ribs and gave him a “Be serious, she’s explaining our whole life” look.

“I’ve already heard this story,” Sirius said.

“Oh.”

“Anyways Harry, retrieving the Traveler’s wife required tasks so dark and so arduous that Flamel thought no one would possibly ever do it. Of course, there is that saying ‘never say never.’ The Traveler manipulated various people in order to retrieve precious items for a potion that would eventually be used to bring Riddle back to life. At the same time, Riddle had left instructions to a few of his followers in case he was to die at your hands. Of course, I always knew what was going to happen,” Fate gave a slightly smug smile before stopping suddenly and facing Harry with a somber look.

“Unfortunately, the potion the Traveler made was given to you when you took a drink while you were eating with your friends on that day you were warped from time. The Traveler has already explained the side effects of this potion to you without you really knowing it. What you did not know is that the potion also allowed the split of your internal personality. Since you gained a slight imprint of Riddle’s soul when you killed him, it eventually fractioned as you approached insanity and allowed Riddle to re-enter the land of the living with a little help from the Traveler,” Fate gave Harry a grave look.

“Remember the cases you were dealing with when you were an Auror right before you disappeared?” Fate asked.

Harry wracked his brain as he fought to remember events that seemed so inconsequential now. He furrowed his eyebrows as he struggled to bring certain memories to the surface of his mind. Harry finally settled on one that brought back a rush of memories.

“The twenty-three year old Seeker! Died of a sudden heart attack!” Harry exclaimed, “And the six other deaths! That was all connected wasn’t it?”

“Six deaths required to brew the essence of souls. One for every year ahead of time,” Fate said.

“That was Umbridge? Malfoy?” Harry asked. Fate nodded. Harry could only shake his head in rampant disbelief. Sirius patted him on the back to try to console his godson.

“It was at this point that we felt the Traveler had gone too far. His interference reached a level which altered the destinies of all the lives of the world,” Fate continued.

“Um, not to sound rude, but who’s ‘we’?” Harry asked tentatively. Fate smiled at him and responded in kind.

“The powers that be Harry. Those of us who determine the on goings of your life.”

“If you’re so powerful why can’t you just stop Malfoy and Umbridge from doing what they did? I mean you did determine that the Traveler had gone too far,” Harry asked the obvious question.

“The same reason the Traveler can not directly interfere using his powers. We can’t directly affect your lives either,” Fate smiled kindly upon Harry. Harry shook his head at the damned rules. He would never quite understand how destinies and prophecies worked.

“So I get another chance…again?” Harry asked. Fate turned around and gave Harry what he deemed to be a sympathetic look.

“Not exactly Harry,” Fate gave him a sad smile, “As of now, Voldemort is in possession of the Elder Wand and is positioned at the edge of Hogwarts, preparing his attack. No matter what you do, he will likely succeed. If that is the case, everyone in Hogwarts will die.”

Harry’s face grew grim and he felt Sirius’s hand on his shoulder. Harry knew that Hermione was likely still in the castle.

“Can’t you just undo it? There has to be something you can do,” Harry implored.

“The damage is irreversible in this line. There is nothing we can do about them this way,” Fate monotonously replied.

“Then why am I even here? This isn’t a second chance! This is me asking to watch all my friends die before me!” Harry raged. He tried to pull away but Sirius’s grip was tight on his shoulder.

“LET GO OF ME SIRIUS!” Harry yelled at his godfather.

“You haven’t heard her other option yet Harry,” said an uncharacteristically solemn Sirius. Harry breathed hard through his nose, glaring at the two people standing him on the pristine beach.

“What’s the other option,” snarled Harry.

“We have the ability to use the Traveler to – manipulate – previous events,” the Fate paused as she spoke, “But in order to do so; it requires the unraveling of one timeline and starting another. It is imperative that we rid of both you and Voldemort’s magic.”

“Rid my magic?” Harry asked with a manic look in his eyes.

“It is the only way my boy. In every age, there is a thesis and an anti-thesis. A squib named Sir Isaac Newton recognized this fact. Another squib, Karl Max, also contained a similar idea. In your age, the two reactionary forces were you and Voldemort. In order to right the world, the only way to do so is to set back time to a certain point and rid all traces of Voldemort and you,” Fate explained.

Harry paused, soaking in the information. His heart was sinking to the crushing depths of his soul. One option killed everyone who he loved but at least gave him the option of achieving revenge. The other option let everyone live but killed himself. Deep inside his heart, Harry already knew the choice he had to make. The tightening in his chest returned as he felt the familiar sting of salty tears that had not fallen in quite a while. Still, he could not help it as he faced the simple vanishing of his existence. A flash of memories flew by in Harry’s mind.

A flash of green light, a woman screaming in the background, a little boy running away from a group of larger boys, an owl soaring through the window dropping off a letter. The tell tale rocking of a boat as it rowed out to an island. A larger bearded man burst through and brandished a slightly broken umbrella.

A small redheaded boy offered a thin black haired boy the seat across from him, a bushy haired buck-tooth girl trying to find a toad, a blond boy offering a hand of friendship, a large troll trying to fight three little children, an animated cheese piece hurling the red head into the air, and the bushy haired girl hugging the scrawny boy with green eyes and whispering into his ear, “You’re a great wizard.”

An odd looking creature warning the scrawny boy to not return to Hogwarts, a bushy haired girl lying frozen on a bed, a giant snake-like creature battling with just a tiny little boy again, the little scrawny boy stabbing a book with a tooth, a dark hooded creature approaching a train compartment, a werewolf, a large dog, and a rat all swirled into one medley of images.

A mess of tents collected together, a goblet spitting out a piece of parchment into the sky, a black-haired teenage boy soaring through the sky with a dragon hot on his tail, an Asian girl smiling at the boy with spectacles, four bodies floating in the water, the bright lights of an enormous hallway lit with trees of snow and ice, a large maze and a grisly voice whispering, “Kill the spare.”

The now grown up brunette crunched the still scrawny black-haired boy in a suffocating hug, the tall, redhead smiling at the boy and patting him on the shoulder, an older gentleman placing a hand on the scarred boy and nodding at him, the older gentleman arching his back as he fell through a veil, an extremely old bearded man gazing at the torn boy as he threw various trinkets to and fro.

A redheaded girl smiling up at the boy with glasses, the tall redheaded boy giving the boy with glasses a high five as they flew around on brooms, the oldest wizard of all ages falling over the balcony of a tall tower, the redheaded boy arguing with the other two teenagers and exiting a tent, the brunette and the boy with glasses holding hands in front of a grave, a battle with a snake and a swim in a lake, the redheaded boy stabbing a locket with a sword, a magical dragon soaring through the air with the three teenagers on his back, the black haired boy solemnly walking through a forest, the black haired boy standing against an evil force with a confident look.

Finally, one image stood alone in Harry’s head. The three teenagers had grown into three adults and stood at the edge of a lake arm in arm, the black-haired boy in between the other two. The black-haired boy leaned over and kissed the head of the brunette while the tall redhead laughed and patted him on the back.

“I’ll do it,” Harry said quietly, “Them for me.”

“Excellent,” Fate said chirpily, “I was hoping you would make that choice.”

Stepping to the water, Fate held her hand out and spoke with a clear, magnetic voice, “Traveler!”

At once, a ring of fire seemed to open up in the middle of the water, sucking in the swirling blues of the ocean. Faster and faster the ring of fire spun until Harry recognized the familiar visage of the Traveler. The frightfully angry Traveler was rising from the middle of the ring until his feet cleared the ocean itself. At once, Fate swung her hand and the ring of fire disappeared. Instead of dropping into the water, the Traveler simply floated until he was on land.

“Undo,” Fate said in the same clear voice. The Traveler snarled as he looked at Harry and Sirius and waved his arm. Slightly confused, Harry watched as the sea parted and watched as a large city stopped moving. The image in the water zoomed in until it focused on a single street, the street outside the Ministry of Magic. Harry watched in amazement as everyone started moving in rapid rewind, as if they were inside a movie constantly going backwards. The sun rose and dipped in the background as millions of people fluttered back and forth across the street. Finally, the image stopped.

“Tom Riddle,” Fate spoke in her regal tone.

The sea parted in a ring of fire again as Harry watched the familiar face of Tom Riddle emerge into view. At first, Riddle looked confused as he rose from the sea until he spotted Harry. Snarling, Riddle moved his wand with deadly precision and aimed right at Harry’s heart. Speaking the incantation to kill, they were both surprised as nothing happened. Instead, Riddle floated in the air in a similar manner to the Traveler and landed on the sand yet again. He looked slightly perturbed as he stared back and forth at the various characters on the beach. He opened his mouth to speak.

“What is the meaning –,“ Riddle did not finish his sentence as Fate calmly waved her bronzed arm. Riddle seemed to vanish into thin air, his clothes crumpling where his foot once stood.

“Goodbye Bob,” Fate waved her arm and instead of vanishing like Riddle did, the Traveler was swallowed into the sand, a slight look of surprise in his face. Harry turned to Fate with a wondering look. She simply smiled back at him.

“There are always others that can ferry the dead to the next adventure Harry. It’s time for yours,” she said with a motherly smile.

Harry nodded and quickly turned around and hugged Sirius fiercely. Caught slightly off guard, Sirius swayed slightly before slowly placing his arms around his godson. They held on as if they were in the middle of a hurricane, neither of them crying.

“Why are you here anyways?” Harry said as he pulled away, “Fat use you were.”

“I was just here in case you had a change of heart. But I knew you didn’t. I just wanted to see you before I depart as well,” Sirius smiled at the boy who had become so much like his father and mother. Harry simply shook his head at the only person he could call family in his whole life.

“Goodbye Sirius,” Harry said with a sad smile.

“Goodbye son,” Sirius replied. Harry smiled and patted him on the shoulder before turning around to face Fate.

“I am ready.”

Fate waved her arm without pretense and Harry Potter seemed to vanish into thin air as well. Sirius watched as the boy who seemed like a son to him disappeared forever. Walking up to Fate, Sirius gave her a wry smile.

“What happens now?” he asked.

“Everyone’s memories have been reset with no recollection of Harry or Riddle. A new reactionary force has been born with its counter in conception as well,” Fate replied.

“But Harry did not exactly understand what I said before I vanished him. I told him he had to be rid of his magic, not to be rid of him,” Fate said with a smile.

“You sly dog,” Sirius replied with a growing grin.

“Although he’ll have no recollection of any of these past events, Harry’s Potter soul lives on down there,” Fate said as she waved her arm yet again and observed a scene on Earth.

---______________________________________---

A slightly attractive brunette was walking down the street with an odd looking pen in her hand as she scribbled on a notebook. Strapped to her wrist was a long, thin piece of wand commonly known as wand among those of magical descent. Frowning, the woman took the wand from her wrist and tucked it into the pockets of her jacket as she entered a store.

The tinkling of the entrance bell alerted a dark-haired boy no more than two decades old with brilliant, green eyes. He was sitting on a chair behind the counter watching television but stood up as soon as the brunette girl walked in. Smiling charmingly at her, he spoke.

“Hi Miss, how may I help you?” he asked with a beaming smile. He noticed the girl blush ever so slightly before collecting herself and asking him politely.

“I was wondering if you have any antique photo albums. A close friend of mines is getting married to a school friend and I wanted something that would remind them of their lives,” she said with strict authority.

“I may have just the one,” the green eyed boy smiled at her as he led her to the upper section of the store. Turning a corner, the boy grabbed an old looking photo album and handed it to her. From her reaction, he knew he was correctly on point with his decision.

“Read your mind did I?” he asked cheekily.

“Why I think you did,” she murmured as she traced the outline of the photo album. The boy smiled at her response and decided to take a gamble.

“This may be very forward of me, but I was wondering if you’d like to join me for my lunch break,” he asked in one breathe. The girl smiled coyly at him and pondered the question for a moment.

“This is very unlike me, but yes,” she laughed.

“Brilliant,” the black-haired boy grinned.

“Hermione,” the girl said as she stuck out her hand for him to shake, slightly entranced by his lovely green eyes.

“Hermione you say? Beautiful name…”

“My name is Harry Potter.”

---_______________________________________________---

Extended Author Notes:

-Some of the things that went on forever unexplained since the first couple of chapters and the mysteries surrounding Harry’s disappearance are hopefully explained in full detail finally. The mysterious solved include but are not limited to: Harry’s early Auror work, some of the books he read, some of the conversations he had while he was unintentionally working for the Traveler, several strange occurrences and apparitions in the altered time, and others.

Whew, finally. It actually took me two years to write this underwhelming story? ;-). I’m one lazy SOB. I’d like to thank everyone who reviewed on Portkey and FF.net. Each and every one of your reviews only encouraged me to write better. As some of you can probably tell, this was my first extended work and while I had originally finished this story a lot earlier, it underwent several re-writes as I grew uncomfortable with the original ending. I know a lot of people might not be happy with how the story ended but after several nights of tearing my hair out, I settled on this ending.

Originally I had intended for Harry to die and take Voldemort with him, but I really deemed it too dark for its own good and seemed very cheap considering Harry’s sacrifices to bring him that far. In the end, I wasn’t malevolent enough to kill our Hero without giving him another chance of life. I settled on this ending instead. Hopefully you guys don’t kill me!

Again, I’d like to thank everyone that read this story; it gives me a great sense of accomplishment to write something that entertains good people such as yourselves.

Please feel free to leave any sort of review (you can flame on if you feel so inclinedJ) and any question or something that might not have been clear to you as I’ve been told over and over that sometimes the plot gets too complicated at points. Thank you, thank you again!

20. Epilogue: Flashes Before Your Eyes

“You’re a great wizard Harry.”

“Six Years, Three Months, Twenty-Three days.”

“Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead-“

Harry Potter snapped up, breathing heavily and sweating profusely. Soft beads of perspiration rolled down his forehead and stung his eyes. Harry hurriedly wiped them out of his eyes as he tried to calm himself, his chest expanding in an awkward manner as he fought to fill his lungs with air. He gritted his teeth as he attempted to summon the memories plaguing his dreams back into his mind. His attempts were futile as the dreams slipped away as quickly as it had harassed his otherwise pleasant dream.

“Harry? What’s wrong?”

Hermione Potter had apparently been woke up by Harry’s sudden movement and sat up with him, rubbing his back gently. When Harry didn’t respond, she laid her head on her shoulder and continued to rub his back, awaiting an answer. Wrapping both of her arms around him, Hermione attempted to bring his tense body into a state of at least mild relaxation.

“It was just another one of those things,” Harry finally said as he rubbed his temple in a feeble attempt to jostle his mind.

“Can’t call the dreams really because I can’t ever really remember what happens in them. They seem so real though, I wish I could remember something at least,” Harry spoke softly, careful not to raise his voice too high.

“The doctor said that these things would occasionally happen. Repressed memories would be partially relived in your dreams. It’s a common side effect of amnesia,” she tried to rationalize.

“I know, I know, I just wish they’d stop already or at least I could find out what’s happening. This has been going on for what feels like forever,” Harry muttered. Hermione didn’t respond but instead kept rubbing circles softly into his back, occasionally dropping a kiss on his shoulder as Harry attempted to regain his bearings.

Truth be told, Hermione knew that Harry’s night spells had been particularly more active when they had finally married. Professor McGonagall had warned her that there were certain side effects of a magical marriage to a Muggle, but none of them explained Harry’s seemingly constant dreams. It left Hermione befuddled that these dreams had went on for almost a decade now.

“What time is it?” Harry said as he rubbed his eyes, trying to make out the bewitched clock in their room.

“It’s just past 3:23 and you’ll be happy to know that all four of the hands are pointing at Home,” she smiled at him as she referred to their clock. Harry finally smiled back and laid back into the comfort of his bed.

“That’s always good to know,” Harry’s smile reached his eyes, the corners crinkling in a comfortable way and Hermione knew he was back to himself. She lay back with him and turned to her side, looking directly into his magical, green eyes. Softly caressing his cheek, Hermione could see the myriad of emotions flickering behind his eyes.

“I love you,” Hermione said in a whisper that could be barely heard.

“I know,” Harry smiled back and took her hand from his cheek, kissing her palm softly.

“What would I do without you?” Harry asked.

“Probably be stuck working in that antique gift shop, selling people photo albums for Mr. Barnes,” Hermione said with an impish smile.

“Well thank goodness my savior came and rescued me from that dark, stormy prison,” Harry playfully rolled his eyes.

“We both helped each other,” she put simply.

“You can keep saying that, but you helped me. Before you came along I was just another amnesia case that went day by day trying to figure out who I was. I know who I am now,” Harry spoke in a serious tone.

“And who are you?”

“Your husband, for now and forever.”

Hermione couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his incredibly cheesy statement. She also couldn’t help the elation that still soared in her heart every time he mentioned that he was her husband. It was a little bit over a decade when they had finally married after four years of steady dating. Somehow, deep inside her, Hermione already knew that he was the one as soon as she walked into the bookstore. She was effervescently drawn to him. He brought out a myriad of emotions that no man had even come close to replicating. After a few dinners and dates, he was constantly on her mind whether she was at work or at home.

It wasn’t until almost a year into their relationship that Harry had finally revealed to her his secret. He had no recollection of any of his memories for the first two decades of his life. He had woken up in a hospital with just his name in his head and nothing else. Hermione remembered the surge of emotions she felt when she found out he had no semblance of a past. Instead of feeling sorry for him though, she had simply gathered him to her and held him while he let loose his frustrations over a history he did not have. Hermione could care less if he had been a thieving merchant or a bully on the block in the past. He was her Harry now and her Harry forever.

“You’re so corny. I love it,” she said as she kissed him softly on the lips.

“What can I say, I’m just a charmer,” Harry said with a wink. Laughing, Hermione turned around and pulled one of Harry’s arms over her, settling into a nice spooning position.

“Let’s go to bed you.”

Hermione felt Harry’s arms stiffen for a moment and his chest hitch, immediately knowing that he had a question for her. She knew from her experiences with him that he was sometimes hesitant when he thought his question was foolish. She squeezed his hand and spoke.

“What is it love?”

“I was wondering if Luna could come by tomorrow. She said she could try to help me in her own way. I know you don’t totally agree with Divination or whatever, but just once maybe…” Harry trailed off and Hermione could imagine biting his lip in anticipation. Although she did not quite understand Luna’s odd branch of magic, she knew at this point nothing could hurt.

“I’ll talk to her in the morning; they should be able to come over after lunch.”

She felt Harry relax and the tension leave his arms. Snuggling into the pillow and Harry, she closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep, the plans of tomorrow flickering oddly in her always active mind.

“Goodnight Hermione.”

“Goodnight Harry.”

---______________________________________---

Harry sipped his coffee as he watched two little darts in the sky fly around three oddly shaped poles with hoops attached to the ends. The two dots zigzagged back and forth in the sky. Their exact figures were hard to see in the blinding light of the sun, but Harry knew that the two figures in the sky were his children.

“Mr. Harry, sir, do you mind if I?” said a voice from behind Harry. Harry turned around and greeted his butler with a head nod while he sipped his coffee.

“Go right ahead Marve,” he said with a smile. Marve smiled back at him and started collecting the lunch plates and utensils.

“And how many times do I have to remind you Marve? Don’t call me Mr. Harry, it makes me feel old. I’m still in my mid-thirties you know,” Harry joked.

“My humble apologies Mr. Potter, I’ll be sure to call you by your proper name,” Marve said with a smirk.

“You’re beyond ridiculous.”

“Who’s beyond ridiculous?” said a voice from the foyer.

“Marve here is making me feel old again!” Harry said as he went out to greet Hermione.

“Well considering you’re about the youngest one of us bunch, I do find that quite ironic,” said another deeper voice.

Harry turned the corner and smiled as he spotted his tall, redheaded friend. Greeting him with a grin and a handshake, Harry immediately turned the conservation to something he knew Ron Weasley would like: Quidditch.

“I got James the Firebolt 2K,” Harry said without any pretense. Ron’s jaw dropped as he raced to the window and peered out into the sun to see two little dots flying in the air.

“How did you manage that? Even I don’t have the Firebolt 2K!” Ron exclaimed as he shielded his eyes from the sun and tried to spot the top of the line broom.

“Well when Hermione came home with the Director of Athletics to discuss some creature fairness in sports. Long shot that is,” Hermione gave him the evil eye, “I’m just being honest dear,” Harry winked at her which caused Hermione to roll her eyes in mock frustration, clearly telling him that this conversation was not done.

“Anyways, I let it slip to him that James was going to try and hassle a tryout as a First Year. The Director was so brought aback that a mere Muggle such as me was quality at this whole Quidditch thing that he offered to let James get his hands on the 2K. Needless to say, I charmed my way into that,” Harry finished with a smile as he watched his son zoom around in the sky.

“He’s going to light up Hogwarts at that rate,” Ron said in awe.

“Now Ronald, where are your matters, Hermione bought us lunch today and all you can do is ogle little kiddies,” said an airy voice from the foyer.

“Oi, Luna! Those are my little kiddies!” Harry said in a mock offense as he laughed at the wife of Ron, Luna Lovegood-Weasley.

“And if Ron ever looked at them that way, he’d lose his little jewels wouldn’t you Ronald,” Luna cooed as she pinched her husband’s cheek.

“I only look at you that way Luna,” Ron smiled cheekily.

“And Lavender.”

Ron’s smile dropped.

“Don’t worry though, its okay with me,” Luna said with a wink.

Ron’s smile grew very wide.

“Too much information you two…or three,” Harry said with a chuckle as he went over to Hermione and gave her a kiss.

“Not to mention that Lavender recently came out,” Hermione said with a raised eyebrow.

“I know,” Luna said deadpanned. Ron nodded his head with a stupidly beaming grin.

“Oh come on you two! My kitchen, leave those kinds of things out of my house,” Harry laughed.

After the four of them had settled down and Marve had prepared the lunch that Hermione had brought with her (Chinese), Harry finally took the time to ask Luna what she was doing to try to do to him.

“Well Harry, if my assumptions are correct, these dreams of yours might be memories of your past life trying to break the mental dam in your mind. In order to do that, I’m going to try to put you in a state of hypnosis and then Hermione and I are going to perform something known as Legilimency. Are you familiar with that term?” Luna asked.

Harry nodded his head, remembering the strange spell that could invade your mind. Hermione had told him about it after she revealed herself as a witch. Harry could still remember the mind-numbing shock when Hermione took out a small stick and lifted him straight into the air. While he was at first confused, he soon became deeply obsessed with magic once Hermione had sat him down and informed him of all the different facets of her life. Harry learned about the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts. Harry found out that the small stick in Hermione’s hand was actually a wand and she could perform a number of useful spells.

“They are not to be used on Muggles,” Hermione said as she explained both the statute of secrecy and the term Muggle.

While still in awe that there even exited a world of magic, Harry was sorely disappointed that he was not a part of it. It wasn’t for a lack of trying as Hermione often said that she could almost feel the magic radiating from Harry. Nonetheless, no results were produced when they went to Diagon Alley and tried to find Harry a wand that could work. Ollivander, the wand maker, confirmed that there were no traces of any magical residue in Harry’s body.

Nevertheless, it did not stop Harry from learning and becoming quick friends with all of Hermione’s magical friends. He and Ron had quickly grown to like each other with each of them teaching one another of the different facets of their respective lives. It was through Ron that Harry had discovered the wonderful sport of Quidditch. Now, he tracked all the teams in the British League just as animatedly as Ron. Harry had embraced the magical world with open words which only further cemented Harry and Hermione’s relationship and led to their future marriage.

“Harry? Zone out a bit mate?” Ron snapped his fingers in Harry’s face.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Had to search my memory deep to remember when the Cannons last won,” Harry grinned cheekily.

“Watch it!” Ron grumbled light heartedly. Although he was the Keeper of Puddlemere United, his heart always belonged to the Chudley Cannons.

“Speaking of which, how’s Villa doing?” Ron asked about Harry’s stake in his Muggle sport.

“Pretty good, lost to United this weekend but who doesn’t?” Harry said with a self-deprecating shake of his head. Ron nodded his head sympathetically.

With no knowledge of whom he was and not a record of him in England, Harry had trouble finding himself a decent job that did not involve working in Mr. Barnes antique gift shop. He had finally settled on coaching kids at football ever since he watched a small pick-up game at a park one day. Realizing he had a good eye for talent and a penchant for leading a team, Harry quickly drew recognition from clubs in England until he was finally offered a job as an assistant coach for the club Aston Villa. Harry loved the job and it paid handsomely enough with Hermione’s income to support their two children so Harry had no qualms about his occupation.

“As nice as it is to here you boys talk about your fancy sports, I do have to get back to the Quibbler later this afternoon Harry, so if you would?” Luna asked as she finished her food, mentioning her father’s publication as she spoke to Harry.

“Of course! Marve can you prepare the study room?” Harry asked the butler.

Hermione, Harry learned, was vehemently opposed against these creatures called House Elves. Harry agreed with her notion that they were unfairly slaved so they certainly would take one on. Nevertheless, with Hermione working tirelessly at the Ministry and Harry often away coaching for the team, they needed a butler to take care of the kids. After careful consideration and research, they had settled on Marve as Harry liked to call him. Given good reviews by other people close to Hermione in the Ministry, Harry and Hermione interviewed Marve and immediately gave him the job once they saw that the children took well to him. For six years now, Marve had served them diligently and never paid them any trouble.

As the quartet entered the study room and Marve left it, Harry settled back onto the couch while Luna and Hermione took seating positions in juxtaposing chairs. After a few minutes where Luna wrote down some notes, she turned and spoke to Ron.

“Ronald, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. The test will be fairer only if those who are involved participate in the room,” she said in her same airy voice but with a slight tint of authority.

“Fine, fine, I know when the adults need their space. I’ll go with Marve and get the kids,” Ron said with a playful eye roll. With a kiss on the top of Luna’s and a good luck to Harry, Ron left the study. Once Ron had left, Luna became unnaturally serious and turned to face Harry and Hermione.

“Now, some clinical trials have shown significant advances in the study of hypnosis. When I’m not at the Quibbler, I’ve overseen some of these trials and the results are magnificent for even those who have been Obliviated or have been under the Cruciatus curse. You are familiar with both of those spells Harry?”

Harry nodded his head with a slight shiver.

“While there have been no experimental cases in people dealing with amnesia, the procedure and methods should work just the same. Now, if you’ll relax Harry,” Luna motioned with her arm.

Taking a deep breath, Harry closed his eyes and willed his body to relax, the tension and stress leaving his neck and upper body, his mind becoming slightly hazy from the forced relaxation.

“Now concentrate on Hermione, Harry. She’s going to be your anchor here. If for any reason you feel any discomfort while we are in your mind, she’ll sense it and pull us out,” Luna said in a strangely calming voice though Harry suspected that it was just the voice she always talked in.

Harry felt Hermione’s hand slip into his own. Exhaling, Harry easily focused on Hermione and their memories together. Harry focused when he had first met her in the antique shop. He focused on when he had proposed to her in front of a large statue and fountain and how they had exuberantly took a swim in said fountain after she said yes. Harry finally focused on the memory of Hermione and their two children, growing blissfully happy. Vaguely, Harry could hear Luna chanting something softly but could not make it out as he fell further and further into a haze. After a few moments, Harry heard Luna say, “Legilimens.”

Harry could felt as if he were falling and falling into a strange abyss. Although Harry did not know what was happening, he felt strangely safe as he fell and fell until he landed softly on the ground. Looking around, all Harry saw was a blank white haze that stretched on in every direction.

“Harry!”

Harry whirled around to see Hermione and Luna standing not a few feet away from him.

“What are you doing here?” Hermione asked as she stepped forward to give him a hug.

“I don’t know. Is this my mind?” he addressed the question to Luna.

“Yes, I think so. Hypnosis usually gives the casters a better feel of traveling within the mind of the patient, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a case where the patient accompanied the casters in their own mind,” Luna frowned slightly.

“Is it okay?” Hermione asked with a curious look.

“It should be,” Luna said slowly. After a moment’s pause, Luna stepped forward and all of a sudden the three of them were on Hogwarts ground.

“What is this?” Harry asked in confusion.

“It’s a representation of your mind Harry. For some reason your mind has brought us here. What we’re looking for is some sort of blockade that’s repressing your memories. Maybe since you’re here you could help us in this?” Luna theorized.

“Alright what do I do?” Harry asked.

“Just try to think of those dreams you had. Try to recall them, as strange as this request sounds,” Luna said.

Harry looked at Hermione skeptically. Hermione simply shrugged and gave Harry’s hand an affectionate squeeze.

“It sounds logical enough. Just try to think of lying back in our bed. Those dreams might just come to you here,” Hermione said.

Taking a deep breath, Harry closed his eyes and tried to wrack his brain for any sort of memory of his dreams. Feeling increasingly frustrated that he could not find even a small piece of his memories, Harry gave up and exhaled in frustration.

“I’m sorry Luna, nothing,” Harry said dejectedly.

“Quite the contrary,” Luna countered.

In Harry’s frustration, he did not realize that their location had been changed once again and now the three of them found themselves on a beach.

“A beach?” Hermione said, bewildered.

“The mental manifestation of the repressed memories in Harry’s mind could be anything. Keep searching Harry,” Luna encouraged him. Slightly hopeful from this new revelation, Harry closed his eyes and wracked his head again. Again, there was no form or memory in his head.

“Look!” Hermione pointed.

The ocean had parted in two different directions, which left a simple path to what seemed to be another island in the distance. The three of them looked at awe at the cascading waves being held up by some invisible barrier.

“What do we do?” Hermione asked.

“We go through,” Luna said in a matter of fact tone, leading the way through the mountainous waves. Harry and Hermione looked at each other and shrugged. With joined hands, they followed Luna through the waves and onto the other island. As soon as Harry and Hermione stepped foot on their island, however, the waves cascaded back down and covered the once open path.

“What now?” Harry asked in confusion.

“I don’t know, your mind will lead us,” Luna said as she observed her surroundings. After a few moments, Hermione exclaimed in disappointment.

“This is the same beach! Look, the rock placement, the bundle of ferns over there, and the trio of palm trees!” Hermione pointed at each physical landmark. Harry noted that Hermione was supremely diligent in details and that she was correct about their location. They had seemingly walked a circle to another beach which had the same appearance.

“Interesting,” Luna murmured.

“What’s interesting Luna?” Harry asked.

“We’re getting somewhere. Let’s try something. Harry clasp Hermione’s hands in your own and focus on nothing but her. Feel nothing but her,” Luna asked the pair of them.

With no other choice but to obey Harry’s temporary mental therapist, Harry and Hermione joined hands and simply stared at each other. After a few moments in which Harry was lost in Hermione’s beautiful brown eyes, Harry could feel the world literally slipping away at his feet. He was unperturbed, however, and simply kept focusing on Hermione and her beautiful hair and beautiful eyes. He dimly heard Luna whisper, “Legilimens.”

Harry did not break eye contact with Hermione but watched as a giant whirlpool formed in the ocean, the water rippling and waving from the unintended side effects. Faster and faster it whirled until it had seemingly become an underwater tornado.

“Harry, Hermione you can let go! This way!” Luna yelled over the dim roar of the waves. Oddly enough, Luna was wading out into the ocean, unperturbed by what should have been deadly waves.

Sensing they were close to what Luna wanted to find, Harry and Hermione joined her as they paddled out into the edge of the whirlpool. While the waves were swirling strongly, the trio of people was not pulled with the sway and tide. They were seemingly unaffected by the whirlpool. As they reached the center of the whirlpool, Harry could make out a dark hole in the center.

“I think we have to go through!” Luna yelled over the waves.

“Alright! Me first! Luna you can come after and then you Hermione!” Harry yelled.

“Why am I going last?” Hermione said in classic Hermione fashion.

“Because I think we’re nearing the end, it might be dangerous!” Harry yelled. He could sense Hermione was angry with him, but Harry could not wait. A potential resolution to a decade of disappearing dreams might be at the center of this vortex and Harry was not going to pass up the opportunity to meet it.

Diving headfirst into the hole, Harry did not notice Hermione jump immediately afterwards with Luna not far behind. As he fell and fell yet again, Harry noted that the sensations were completely different this time.

“Take my hand, Harry.”

“You’re a wizard, Harry.”

“I want you to listen to me very carefully, Harry. You’re not a bad person.”

“You’re a fool, Harry Potter. You will lose everything.”

“You shall not harm Harry Potter!”

“I love you Harry.”

The voices whirled in Harry’s head as he tumbled down the hole. Flashes of confusing images rolled past his head faster than he could imagine. Various images of different people, different locales, and different languages rolled by in a blur as Harry yelled out in pain from the overload of information in his head. But as quickly as the flashes had come, they had retreated quietly into an unknown portion of his mind. Harry opened his eyes to see Hermione looking worriedly at him. He could barely make out her furrowed brow or her quivering lips as she was not a couple centimeters away from his face.

“Harry? Are you alright?” she said in a whisper, her breath dancing against his lips. Leaning up just an inch, Harry gave her a soft kiss on the lips.

“Just peachy,” Harry groaned. She smacked him in the shoulder and simultaneously hugged him at the same time.

“You had me – us – worried there. It seemed like you blacked out for a second,” Hermione said as she helped pull him to his feet.

“Yeah, I don’t know, I felt like a bunch of memories were rushing by but I couldn’t catch any of them. They felt much more real than in my dreams though,” Harry explained as he squinted into the darkness.

“You mind turning on the light?” Luna’s disembodied voice said. Harry looked up to see a switch dangling from a lone light bulb.

“Is this it?” he asked.

“Only you can find out,” Luna’s strangely disembodied voice said.

“Now or nothing,” Harry muttered as he pulled the switch.

There was no grand reveal of memories, however. The three of them simply found themselves in what looked to be an empty store room. Looking around though, Harry spotted something in the corner.

“Look at that,” Hermione said, noticing the stick on the bench.

“Is that what I think it is?” Harry asked.

Neither of them responded as Harry broke out of Hermione’s hand and walked towards the corner of the bare room. The cold stone walls did not welcome visitors yet in the lone corner was a thin piece of wood placed upon a bench. Looking back unsurely at Hermione and Luna, Harry braced himself for the unknown as he picked up the wand. Instantly, he felt a rush as if his feet left the ground. Instead of falling as had been the usual, he was flying, flying in the air.

Harry had assumed that something groundbreaking was going to happen when he picked up the wand. He had hoped for the psychological dam to break and for his memories to spill onto the study floor. But instead, Harry simply woke up from his reverie, his hand still in Hermione’s. He noticed their eyes were open as well; Hermione’s facing looking curiously at his own while Luna seemed to have a blissful look on his face.

“What was that?” Harry asked in a slightly annoyed tone.

“If my interpretations are correct then that last room we were in represented your memories and that wand was your last obstacle. Seeing that the room was empty, I have no choice but to assume that there are simply no memories of your past. It’s common to those who suffer severe brain damage in certain cortexes of the brain to simply just forget what’s happened. I can say without a doubt though that you have no repressions or blocked memories,” Luna explained.

“Simply put, you just have no past memories.”

Harry felt his heart plummet and hung his head as Luna explained herself. Hermione recognized Harry closing himself from outside connections and simply looped her arm through his and brought him against her.

“What about the whole wand thing?” Harry asked hopefully.

“I suppose it might have been just the last obstacle that’s been bothering you. Is there anything you can think it can represent?” Luna asked.

After a moment, Harry raised his head and said, “No.”

Luna nodded while Hermione looked at him with sympathy etched in her face. Before any of them could say anything, the door burst open with a loud bang.

“Dad!”

“Daddy!!!”

Two little children raced in through the door and jumped onto the couch with their father and mother. Harry laughed as he felt his son, James, punch him on the shoulder as bounced on the edge of the coach. Harry remembered the day James was born, his heart fluttering when he had finally emerged from Hermione’s womb. The pair of them decided he would be named James as Harry had felt a certain unquantifiable connection when they were trying to list names for him.

James Potter had taken after his father. With strikingly green eyes, messy black hair, and great athletic ability, James Potter would grow to be an almost carbon copy of his father. He had thankfully inherited his mother’s smarts, with much pleasure to his mother.

“Dad the 2K is great! Thanks so much!” as he oddly kept punching his father.

“Okay, okay kiddo! I’m glad you enjoyed it!” Harry laughed despite the sad news that had been put on him just a few moments ago.

“But Dadddddy! He wouldn’t let me get the 2K!” Harry’s daughter, Emma, whined.

Emma Potter was born just a year later after her older brother. She, like her brother, had taken after her father’s looks. With straight, black hair and equally striking green eyes, she could have easily been mistaken as a twin to her brother. While they were strikingly similar in appearance, they had quite different personalities. While her brother was a little on the shy side, Emma was boisterous and grew a reputation of being quite a little rebel in school, much to Hermione’s dismay and Harry’s elation.

“Don’t worry munchkin, I promise I’ll get you a 2K too!” Harry said with a smile and a pat on the head.

“See! Told you he’d get me one!” Emma stuck her tongue out at James who made an inappropriate gesture back at her.

“James!” Harry and Hermione said in unison while Ron snickered in the background.

“And you! I thought I told you to keep them out until we were done!” Hermione glowered over Ron with her hands on her hips.

“I’m sorry, your kids are very insistent!” Ron laughed.

“Marve? Can you explain yourself?” Hermione turned towards their butler.

“They outran me Madame,” Marve bowed deeply before sweeping out of the room.

“Outran?” Hermione said in a shocked tone.

“Oh lay them off, Hermione, everything’s done here anyways,” Harry kissed her cheek and smiled at her, but Hermione could detect the faint hint of sadness behind his eyes.

“Ewwwww, they’re making googly eyes!” Emma yelled and pointed her finger at them exaggeratedly.

“Ewwwww! Jimmy said that if you do that long enough, you can get Sugarplank cooties from them,” Jimmy nodded at Ron.

“My Jimmy?” Ron asked.

“Yes, Uncle Ron, Jimmy told me that when he came back from Hogwarts!” James nodded eagerly.

“That son of ours speaks the truth,” Luna said, completely dead panned. Ron looked at her with his mouth open. After a few moments he shut his mouth and spoke, “You’re way too right wifey.”

Laughing at his friends, Harry swept Emma up in his arms and spoke to everyone, “Who wants pizza?!?”

---________________________________________---

After the rumble had settled and the kids were tucked into bed, the adults were sipping wine in the kitchen and idly catching up on various issues. Harry had momentarily taken a leave and retired to the study in order to retrieve something according to him.

Harry had crossed the threshold into the study and purposely strode to Hermione’s purse where she kept her wand. Harry picked the wand out of Hermione’s purse and held it tightly in his hand. He could feel what seemed to be a fleeting wave pass through his body. He had memorized the spell ever since they had left to eat pizza and there was no time like the present. He waved the wand with a swish and a flick and spoke clearly.

“Wingardium Leviosa!”

Harry had waved the wand at a quill that lay on the table. He was disheartened and surprised to see that nothing happened. He tried again and again, waving the wand in a swish and flick motion, but each time nothing happened. Harry was so sure that this experiment would work. It was the only thing the wand in the room could possibly represent.

“I tried too, you know?” said a voice from behind him.

Harry dropped the wand and turned on point to see Marve smiling at him while he polished a plate. Marve strode towards him and placed the wand back onto the desk. Harry was frozen, embarrassed at being caught at attempting magic.

“When I found out about the magical world, I was so sure I could do it too. It didn’t look that hard,” Marve spoke as he continued cleaning the plate with a cloth, “But I eventually came to terms with it. Us Muggles just aren’t meant to do it.”

“I was just so sure,” Harry said

“I know, Harry, I was too. But we just aren’t meant to do those kinds of things. All of us are meant for different things. I was meant to meet you and your wonderful family, you were meant to raise your kids into great people. You just have to learn to accept it,” Marve relayed his feelings towards Harry with an odd touch of sentimentality not usually seen from the reserved butler.

Harry realized that Marve was right. He was so sure he could do magic that it had quietly bothered him for this many years. But now, Harry accepted it. This magic was not meant for him. He was meant to do great things in his own right but in his own unique way. He chuckled as he looked up at Marve.

“Us amnesiacs gotta stick together right?” Harry joked.

“Too true, sir. But I suppose both of us just have a bad case of memory loss,” Marve said with a wink.

“We’re not so different, you and I,” Harry said.

“No we’re not, sir.”

“There you are!” Hermione said from the entrance of the study.

“What are you two doing?” she asked as she came to Harry and looped her arm around his waist. Harry shot Hermione a half-smile but Marve beat him to an explanation.

“I was just helping Mr. Harry look for his cell phone, Madame,” Marve explained.

“Oh Harry,” she slapped him playfully on the chest, “You could have just asked me. It’s up by the bedside table,” Hermione said, no doubt using her photographic memory.

“Of course!” Harry said with a slap to his forehead and a thankful smile to Marve. Marve smiled back and left the pair of them. As Marve left the study, Hermione took the opportunity to hug Harry and look up at him, questioning him with her eyes.

“Are you alright?” she asked softly. Harry took a moment before looking directly into her eyes and genuinely smiling.

“I think I’m alright now. I doubt I’ll be having any of those dreams anymore,” Harry kissed the tip of her noise to punctuate his statement.

“I’m glad,” Hermione said as she buried her head into his chest, relishing his warmth and feeling his strong, steady heartbeat.

“I love you, you know and those little rascals of ours,” Harry murmured into her hair.

“I love you too Harry,” Hermione said, kissing the spot where his heart would be.

“I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world,” Harry whispered. Hermione looked up from Harry’s chest and stared at him.

“I’m glad.”

They wrapped their arms around each other and savored the comfort and love they brought to each other. Unfortunately, they were snapped out of their reverie by a snicker.

“So beautiful,” Ron said as he pretended to wipe tears out of his eyes.

“Shut it you weasel!” Harry laughed at his friend as he and Hermione parted a little but did not leave each other’s arms.

“Oh Ronald, don’t be so immature,” Luna swatted her husband’s arm and approached Harry with a piece of paper in her hand.

“Harry, I’m going to classify your case as a clinical trial with the Department of Mysteries. I have to register everyone that’s in this house as necessary for what the Unspeakables want. I have everyone’s signatures but yours and I do need the full name of your butler,” Luna explained as she handed Harry the paper and pen.

“You don’t know Marve’s real name?” Harry asked as he wrote down his butler’s name on the paper.

“No, I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”

“Tom. Marvolo. Riddle,” Harry wrote down, “My fellow amnesiac.”

“Harry, don’t joke!” Hermione giggled against his arm as she looked over his shoulder at the paper, “Now your name.”

“Of course,” Harry scribbled.

“Harry. James. Potter,” Harry wrote as he smiled at the last two names on the list.

“Alright you two, get out of my house. Let me live on with my life.”

---_________________________________---

:wink:

My Name is Harry Potter

1. My Name is Harry Potter

2. The Day

3. Date Line (I Am Gone)

4. Hogwarts: A Mystery

5. Doppelganger

6. Rita's Theory

7. Dead or Alive

8. You Don't Know

9. The Head Auror

10. Aristocracy

11. Off the Edge

12. A Discussion Amongst Peers

13. Peccavi

14. Space Travel

15. The Ghost of Christmas Past

16. Mrs. Potter's Untimely Demise

17. The Ace in the Hole

18. The Fork in the Road

19. The Day The Whole World Went Away

20. Epilogue: Flashes Before Your Eyes