What if Voldemort never existed? (Currently being rewritten.)
From the Unofficial Portkey Archive: https://portkey-archive.org/story/7932/
Disclaimer: I do not own any Harry Potter characters etc.
Warning: Book 1-6 spoilers
A/N: Obviously this is a rewritten fic of my old story “My Unreality”. The title is staying the same, and while the story will be following the same plot, I just felt this story had so much potential so I want to make it better.
Originally this story only had six chapters- this version will have a lot more. I want this to be the story I planned in the beginning, and not the rushed rubbish I wrote last year, so enjoy! Feedback of course is always appreciated ^_~
Into The Light
Lightning struck through the dusky sky, tearing the suffocating blackness apart in a sharp clash of blinding light. The moon barely peeped out from behind the blanket of darkness, its pale light far too feeble to face the horrendous sight below. The jagged lights once more clashed, briefly illuminating the bloodied ground where a fierce battle had raged only moments before. Only two people were left standing on the body littered ground- their eyes locked on the other, completely oblivious to the terrifying storm around them. It was a fitting scene for a battle, and the pounding rain slicing through the warrior’s skin like sharp knives only added to the dark day.
The raven-haired boy wiped the sticky blood off his face that was mingled with sweat, his breathing ragged as his eyes narrowed with intense hatred at the disfigured man before him. “You killed them!” He yelled, choking slightly on his tears that were forcing his throat to constrict painfully. “Now I’ll kill you!”
The man laughed, a cold fearless laugh that would have made any other person shiver in fear, but the raven haired boy was far too lost to despair to care about terror now. He had no room left in his bitter heart to feel fear, and that was what made him all the more determined to win this fight- to get revenge.
“And what are you going to kill me with?” The man asked, his crimson eyes smiling mockingly. “Your pathetic curses?” He laughed again and walked forward, his black cloak blowing in the chilling wind. “Poor, precious Potter: the saviour of the Wizarding World.” His red eyes glinted cruelly, and a slow smile curved his thin lips. “You’ve already lost everything you love. What is the use in fighting me now? No one is here to welcome you back home.”
Harry walked forward, his fists clenching so hard that he could feel the blood trickling down his hands from the crescent shaped wounds his nails had made. His emerald eyes sparked with rage, the pure hatred he felt for the man before him surging through him like a sickening poison. All he wanted was this snake- this monster- feel the pain he felt- to suffer as he had suffered. That was all he needed.
“Nothing matters to me anymore; you’ve made sure of that.” Harry said bitterly, meeting that crimson gaze with another surge of hate. “Only one of us will live tonight, Voldemort. I won’t run.”
These words seemed to agree with Voldemort, who smiled his pitiless smile and brought out his wand, stroking it lovingly with his fingers a moment before holding it in the duelling stance. “Then let us begin.”
Harry nodded grimly and raised his wand stiffly in salute. There would be no childish games this time. There would be no hiding behind rocks. This was the end; he would make sure of it.
It was sort of surreal to know that he was facing what could be his last moments on this Earth. Somehow he thought he would have been more scared than this- to know that he was possibly about to be killed, but after everything he had been through; after all the friends and allies he had seen killed- somehow he had become numb.
Voldemort moved slowly around Harry like a cat waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting bird. Harry could only watch, his heart thudding in his chest like a war drum building louder and louder for that critical moment. He saw the sharp jab of Voldemort’s wand and quickly deflected the jet of purple light that had been sent his way.
“You didn’t think I would come here unprepared, did you?” Harry mocked, but he gripped his wand tighter all the same. In a way he knew he was hopelessly unbalanced in this fight. All it would take was Voldemort to cast Avada Kedavra and that would be the end. He just needed to keep Voldemort toying with him to give him his chance to strike before that moment happened.
Voldemort’s lips twisted into a sneer, his eyes glinting maliciously. “So you learnt a few tricks? It still won’t be enough.”
Harry ducked again as another curse was sent his way, and rolled forward on the muddy ground towards Voldemort, quickly muttering a spell to send a flash of white at the tall man before him. Voldemort easily deflected it, as if Harry’s curse had been as worthless as a fly, and sent his own curse back. Harry just managed to block it, but he could feel the drain on his energy as well as his magic. There was just no getting around the fact that Voldemort was more magically powerful than him.
They kept on fighting through the night, sending curse after curse until Harry thought he was so magically drained he would collapse. He could feel his arm protesting against casting any more spells- the wand in his hand beginning to feel like a tonne of bricks rather than a thin piece of wood. His breathing was ragged to the point of it being too painful to even breath, and his throat was hoarse from shouting spells- he had never quite got the hang of silent spells.
Harry felt something painfully hot collide with his leg, and gasped in sudden pain. He heard the sound of his bones snapping sickeningly in his dizzy brain and swayed in shock. His leg gave a nasty throb, and unable to handle the pain or the weight of his exhausted body, Harry collapsed to the ground in a bloody heap.
Groaning to himself as angry tears stung his eyes, Harry stared at his mutilated leg, noticing with a sort of morbid curiosity the way the bone was sticking out at an odd angle having ruptured the skin, and at the blood oozing out of the wound with each throb of pain.
Voldemort’s laugh rang hideously through the night- the sound so triumphant that Harry thought he might be sick.
“You cannot run from me now Harry.” Voldemort taunted, his red eyes gleaming with sickening satisfaction. He moved towards Harry languidly, knowing that Harry could not go anywhere now.
Not wanting to give up yet, Harry clenched his fists, only to realise with a jolt that he had lost his wand. He looked around feverishly for his only weapon and saw it lying on the muddy ground just a few feet away from him.
“Got-to-get-wand,” Harry gasped, his fingers stretching out desperately, while his legs tried to push his exhausted body towards the wand. His eyes lit up with sweet relief when he felt his fingers close around the muddy wood, but a shadow loomed over him, and quite suddenly Voldemort’s foot slammed down painfully on his fingers. Harry heard the crunching of the bones in his fingers and the loud snap of the wood splitting in two- his very hope breaking away with it. He cried out in anguish, cradling his broken fingers against his chest as tears slid down his cheeks. His eyes rolled back into his head at the combined pain of his leg and hand, opening dizzily again to see Voldemort’s pitiless gaze above him.
“I’m going to crush you until nothing is left.” Voldemort said softly, his crimson eyes lighting with malice. “And then you shall die, knowing that everything you have loved I have destroyed.”
The rage boiled fiercely inside him- the desire to kill taking over until his whole body burned with cold fury. He needed to do something; he couldn’t just give in like this!
Keeping his gaze on Voldemort’s mocking face, Harry reached around the mud for something- anything that could help him. His fingers ran over a particularly jagged rock, and grasping it tightly in his hand, despite his fingers protesting as small cuts appeared from the sharp shards of rock, he looked up at Voldemort grimly. “I won't let you win!”
Voldemort laughed again and leaned his nightmarish face down closer to Harry, whispering softly, “My dear boy, you've already lost.”
Not even sure how what he was doing, Harry lunged forward with the rock and sliced ruthlessly with it at Voldemort’s neck. Blood splattered his face like crimson rain, and Harry could only watch as Voldemort fell back sputtering and choking, clutching his neck in disbelief where his blood gurgled out unpleasantly.
“You were right in saying my spells couldn’t hurt you,” Harry said with an ironic smile. “But even you can’t stop this.”
“You’ll never kill me, Harry. I’ll always be there like your shadow until the day you die.”
Harry didn’t doubt it, but it would not be in the way Voldemort wanted. He knew that in a way he was only killing the shell and not the evil inside that truly caused him pain. It was strange, but in a way Voldemort would be immortal, if only in memory.
The crimson eyes rolled back into his head as Voldemort took one last shuddering breath. His body swayed creepily before it fell back against the ground in a pile of blood, the last shreds of life slipping away in those few seconds.
Harry sighed and fell back against the mud in complete exhaustion, his eyes staring up at the stormy skies in bitter disappointment. He had defeated Voldemort, but he had gained nothing; Hogwarts was destroyed and all his friends had been murdered. There was nothing left for him here.
“I can’t even move.” Harry muttered bitterly, just lying in the mud as the rain pounded down on him. Was he going to just have to lie here next to Voldemort’s body until he bled to death?
Unbearable tiredness seemed to sweep over his body. His eyes closed and slowly blackness started to surround him. If this was what death was like then it wasn’t so bad. Harry almost felt like he was falling into a peaceful dream. Even the pain in his leg and hand seemed to have lessened.
Suddenly a blinding light shot out through the air. Harry opened his eyes in surprise and sat up with a jolt, squinting in protest at the pain of the white light. It poured down around him, embracing his body. A strange sensation surged through him, and Harry found himself feeling just a little afraid. What was going on?
A still silence rang through the air, and Harry could only hear his own ragged breathing, but that couldn’t be right- there was a storm…
The anxiety started building up inside him, and Harry quickly looked next to him, but Voldemort’s body had gone. Something was definitely wrong here.
“What’s going on?” Harry muttered to himself in a confused voice.
“Harry.”
He glanced around frantically at the voice that seemed so familiar and seeing nothing, looked up into the blinding white light and saw a figure descending towards him. They were clothed completely in white, and as they came closer certain things became apparent. It was a girl with light brown hair that blew gently in a non-existent wind. On her face she wore a gentle smile, and he knew he would never forget those honey-brown eyes.
Tears slipped down his cheeks as he stared at the girl, his heart fluttering with hope. “Hermione?”
“Harry,” she whispered coming in to close the door.
“Hermione, what are you doing?” Harry asked, quickly pulling on his shirt in embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” Hermione blushed. “I just needed to talk to you.”
“Oh?” Harry said in surprise and sat down on the bed. “What’s up?”
Hermione fidgeted slightly with her hands and frowned. Harry had never seen her so agitated before; she was normally so calm. “Hermione?” he prompted.
“Harry, please don’t go to the cave; it’s too dangerous. I promise we’ll find another way.” She burst out desperately.
Harry sighed. “Hermione, you know there is no other way.”
“But-”
“No.” He gave her a firm look, but his eyes softened the grimness. “You know what I have to do.”
Hermione stared at him, her sweet, honey-brown eyes filling with tears. “But so many people have died already. I don’t want you to-”
“-I’m not going to die Hermione!” Harry pulled her into his arms and held her close, trying to give her some comfort. “Don’t you believe in me anymore?” He asked looking down at her sadly.
“I do believe in you,” she said softly. “But I don’t want you to go.” She grasped his hands firmly and looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, “I love you Harry.”
Harry stared at her shocked. His whole life he had wanted to hear those words, and now hearing them he finally understood why love was such a treasured thing. Looking into her eyes he knew that nothing could compare to the feelings of warmth that burned through him, or the knowledge that he had just become complete. It suddenly seemed only natural to say the same.
“I love you too.” He smiled tenderly at her before leaning in to kiss her gently on the lips.
Harry opened his eyes suddenly and stared around him. The pillar of light and the person had gone. He tried to stand and was surprised at how easy it was. His leg had been healed, and glancing down at his fingers, he realised that too had been fixed.
“What’s going on?” he muttered, peering around the large white room with a frown. It appeared that there was no way out.
“Harry,” the voice said again, but this time clearer.
Harry spun around and saw Hermione standing before him clothed in white. She looked unearthly, almost angelic, but that didn’t stop him from taking a step forward in deep longing.
“Hermione, it really is you?” Harry said disbelievingly, just gazing at her sweet face.
She smiled gently at him, her eyes never leaving his. “Wake up Harry.”
He frowned and tried to walk forward to get closer towards her, but the world began to dissolve. Panicking slightly, he stared at Hermione’s smiling face as it too began to fade, and felt a jolt of anxiety shoot through him. “No, come back!” he shouted as he ran forward towards her.
The ground fell away under his feet, and Harry yelped in surprise at the sudden sickening whoosh of his stomach as he plummeted down into the blinding light below.
OOOOOOOOOOO
“Young man, what are you doing?” A voice asked in shock.
Harry groaned and opened his eyes. His body felt stiff, and an odd buzzing sound was ringing in his head. He stared around the cool stone walls that looked oddly familiar and held a hand to his head. “Where am I?”
“Must have hit his head.” Someone said amused.
Harry thought he recognised that voice but couldn’t quite place it. He stood up and swayed slightly, but managed to still stay on his feet. He noticed a bunch of people staring at him curiously, and frowned to himself. Where had they all come from?
A man Harry knew he had definitely seen before was peering at him through his glasses. “Maybe you should go to Madam Pomfrey?”
Harry could only blink. Madam Pomfrey was dead. She’d died in one of the battles at the camp. “What are you talking about?” Was this their sick idea of a joke?
Notching that a lot of them were staring at him still, he stared right back, glaring slightly at one of the young girls looking at him. A Ravenclaw crest was on her robe, and frowning slightly at the blue crest, he suddenly realised where he was. The stone walls, the familiar faces: he was in Hogwarts, though he couldn’t understand how.
“I have to go,” Harry said quickly and walked away shakily. What was going on? And how was he possibly in Hogwarts? Hadn’t it been destroyed?
He walked down the familiar corridors and gasped as a boy with flaming red hair walked past. “RON!” Harry yelled, running forward. “Ron, it’s me. Harry!”
Ron looked at him confused, and then his blue eyes narrowed slightly. “What do you want?”
“Huh?”
Why was Ron treating him like some ugly, stinkbug? Harry was his friend, wasn’t he?
“Don’t even talk to me,” Ron growled rudely and walked away.
Harry could only stare in bewilderment. If this was the world of the dead, why was Ron treating him like this? Heaven really sucked if it meant your friends hated you.
He started walked down the corridors in a slightly dampened mood, unsure just what was going on. Most of these people should be dead, and he seemed to be the only one who didn’t know what was going on. He still couldn’t believe the way Ron had treated him.
A girl with bushy brown hair walked past him, and Harry stopped suddenly, staring at her progress with an excited bubble building inside him. She wouldn’t push him away!
“Hey!” Harry called out, running forward to the girl. “Hermione!”
Hermione stopped, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Harry?”
Harry felt a wave of relief sweep over him; at least one of his friends recognised him. “Hey, what’s going on?”
”Sorry?” Hermione said puzzled, looking at him as if he might be crazy. “What are you talking about?”
Harry sighed. Maybe he had started celebrating too soon. “Well, you are my friend, aren’t you?”
Hermione gazed at him blankly, clearly having no idea what he was talking about. “Friend? You hardly even talk to me.”
“What? Of course I talk to you; you’re my best friend.”
She laughed in obvious amusement. “I think you’ve hit your head. Maybe you should get Madam Pomfrey to check it out?”
Harry let out a frustrated yell. Why wasn’t anyone talking to him normally? Why were they all acting like they didn’t know what was going on?
“Look, I just defeated Voldemort, and now I’m in this weird place and I need your help to get me back.”
Hermione walked forward and felt his head, her eyes meeting his with concern. “Are you feeling alright?”
“What? Didn’t you even listen to me? I defeated Voldemort!!” There was something definitely wrong here, and a nasty feeling was growing inside Harry. Somehow he knew he didn’t really want to know what was really going on in this weird place.
“Um, Harry, who is this Voldemort? Seriously, did you take some babbling potion or something?”
Harry just shook his head in shock. There was no way that anyone in the Wizarding World would say ‘who is this Voldemort?’. Something was seriously wrong, and Harry knew he had to find out what.
“Ah, Mr Potter.”
Harry turned and practically gasped when he saw Professor McGonagall walking towards him. There went another dead person. Maybe he was in a world of zombies, or maybe he was just dreaming? Yes it had to be that…
“I’ve been looking for you. Your mother is here to see you.”
“Mother?” Harry said faintly. He stared behind Professor McGonagall and saw a beautiful woman with emerald-coloured, almond-shaped eyes. Her long ruby red hair fell around her, and she smiled tenderly at him in a way he had seen her do many times in the Mirror of Erised.
“Harry, how are you feeling now?” She asked gently.
“Mum?” Harry gasped, unable to believe his eyes. “Is that really you?”
Lily laughed lightly. “Of course it’s me Harry.”
“This can’t be real.” Harry muttered fervently, all of a sudden feeling very light headed.
They all looked at him strangely, and Harry knew that wherever he was it was certainly not his reality.
Disclaimer: I do not own any Harry Potter characters etc.
Warning: Book 1-6 spoilers
A/N: Much to my mortification I realised there were quite a few typos in that last chapter. Hopefully this one will not prove the same, though I admit I am half asleep right now. I’ll apologise now just in case, lol.
I should also apologise for the wait. I just got bombarded with assignment after assignment, and so I didn’t have any time at all for writing.
No Friend Of Mine
Harry wasn’t sure if he was awake or asleep. A loud buzzing seemed to be echoing in his head, and when he tried to move he found it extremely difficult to make his limbs listen to the commands of his brain because of a frustrating numbness that seemed to be clinging to his body. If this was what it felt like to be paralysed Harry thought he would not like it at all. The sheer annoyance he felt right now in being unable to do so much as lift an eyelid was nearly unbearable.
“How is he feeling?” he heard someone ask in a concerned voice that was slightly muffled. Well at least his hearing was okay, and amongst all the buzzing Harry thought he might have recognised that voice. Though it was not one he had heard many times before- more one he had just yearned to hear.
“His mind has gone into shock,” another muffled voice said slowly. “I don’t know what could have caused this to happen, but…” the voice trailed off, and Harry could almost feel their eyes watching him. “He’ll be fine.”
“But, it’s been three days…”
“It’s been three days…don’t you think we should stop now?”
“Don’t even say it!” Harry yelled angrily. “He'll come back Malfoy! I know it!”
Draco walked forward. “Ignoring it will only make it worse Potter; you have to accept-“
“JUST SHUT UP!” Harry exploded, his emerald eyes flashing furiously. He didn’t want to hear this right now. He didn’t need to hear this right now. They were wrong; they were all wrong…
Draco sighed in exasperation. “Keep telling yourself that your precious Weasley isn't dead, but deep down you must know he isn't coming back…”
Harry stared at the wall, completely ignoring the other boy. Ron wasn’t dead. He just wasn’t.
“Potter… Weasley went missing three days ago…you know just as well as me that it's not because he’s gone on holiday…”
Tears burned in Harry’s eyes. Draco’s words had hit him like a sledgehammer, and he knew he could not deny the truth of them. The brutal knowledge that his best friend would never laugh with him again; the sorrow he felt as Ron’s face turned into a memory- it just wasn’t right…
“I’m sorry,” Draco said softly. “He didn’t deserve this…”
Harry opened his eyes and was surprised to feel warm droplets sliding down his cheeks. He must have been crying. The memories that haunted him were always painful. So many friends had been lost in the war, and not just Ron. Everyone he loved had been murdered and killed; some before his eyes- others just never came back. There had been no end to it. The killing, the death, the blood… it just kept going and going until all hope slowly unravelled like a loose thread in a beautiful tapestry; the picture eventually slipped away, and all that remained were the scattered dreams of abandoned warriors.
“Harry, you’re awake!” Lily exclaimed and pulled him into a hug, making Harry feel incredibly uncomfortable. He was not used to being hugged by anyone but Hermione, and it was strange to be hugged by someone who he had believed to be dead. Even if he had yearned to know what it was like to be held by his mother, now it was just strange- almost painful…
“Mum,” Harry mumbled weakly, pulling himself away from her to escape the sudden awkwardness. “What happened?”
Lily’s smile faltered, and she looked at him keenly through her emerald eyes. “You went into a sort of coma. Madame Pomfrey says your mind went into shock and just closed itself off.”
Harry couldn’t help but gasp. He had been in a coma? And if what they had said before was true, than that meant he really had been out for three days. “So, I’ve been out for three days?”
Lily nodded. “I was getting worried, but you’re okay now.”
Harry frowned and looked away. Was he okay? He didn’t think so. He was trapped in a strange world filled with people of his past, with no idea how he got here, or why he was here. He had thought it had just been a dream, but feeling the reality of it all made him understand that he was only deluding himself in thinking this a mere dream.
“What’s wrong, Harry?” She sat down next to him on the bed and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, a concerned expression flickering in her eyes- eyes that were just like his.
Harry shook his head, not wanting to worry her with his own problems. She would just think he was crazy if he ran around saying he was from another world and that she had been dead in that world for nearly seventeen years.
“It’s nothing, mum… Um, can I ask what you’re doing here anyway?”
The thought had been troubling him for a while now. Why was his mother at Hogwarts? Surely she should be at home doing whatever it was that mothers did.
Lily laughed in obvious amusement. “Silly, I’ve been visiting your father, but Professor McGonagall told me about your little mishap and so of course I came to see if you were alright.”
“Oh…” Harry felt his face break into a confused frown and wondered what that mishap was. Was there another Harry in this world? And if so, what had happened to him?
“Well, I have to go home and look after Adelle.” She smiled tenderly and leaned down to give him a small kiss on his forehead. He felt her hand smooth away his unruly fringe and couldn’t stop the feelings awkwardness shooting through him.
“Take care of yourself Harry. I don’t want you following your father in his recklessness.”
Harry nodded obediently and watched her leave the hospital wing, all the while wondering who this Adelle was and why his mother had to look after her. He was also curious as to why his mum had come to Hogwarts to meet his father. Why would James Potter be here of all places?
Madame Pomfrey bustled in through the door and immediately started fussing over Harry before finally declaring he was fine to go, adding darkly that it would not be long before he was in there again anyway. Harry nodded, ironically thinking to himself that perhaps some things were not so different in this world after all, and quickly left the Hospital Wing. It suddenly occurred to him that he didn’t know just what he was supposed to be doing. The Harry in this world would surely know, but for Harry himself he felt like a fish out of water with no idea how to even breathe.
To his great relief he saw Hermione walking past with her books clutched in her hands, her bushy hair bouncing from her fast pace.
“Hey, Hermione!” Harry hollered, coming to walk beside her. She turned to look at him, and realising who he was raised an eyebrow enquiringly. Harry paused at the haughtiness in her expression but decided to plunge on ahead anyway. He’d never get anywhere without some help after all.
“Um, what class do I have now?”
“Potions,” Hermione replied shortly and continued walking, clearly not in the mood to be talking to him. He’d never thought she could be such a snob…
“H-hey, wait,” he stuttered and ran to catch up. “What’s with you?”
“What’s with you?” Hermione exclaimed in frustration, her brown eyes flickering with annoyance and confusion all mixed into one. “You’ve been acting so…so weird lately. Not to mention you keep talking to me for some reason.”
“What do you mean I’ve been acting weird? Why wouldn’t I talk to you?”
He didn’t know much about this world, but he was sure things couldn’t be too different could it? After all, he and Hermione were lovers in his world, so surely they must get along somewhat in this one…
Hermione sighed and absently rubbed her face with her free hand. “Don’t you remember anything?”
It was not really possible for him to remember anything, and he hoped she would explain for his benefit so he could actually work out what was wrong with everyone here. “I don’t understand.”
Hermione shook her head in exasperation and continued walking. “Maybe you really did hurt yourself in there,” she muttered more to herself. “Not that it really matters much to me.” Her eyes narrowed into a glare, and she clutched her books tighter to her chest. “If this is another one of your stupid friends’ games to make me look ridiculous again, I don’t want any part of it. Just leave me alone, Harry.”
“Oh, c’mon, I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you,” Harry replied earnestly as he walked by her side. It was true enough, but he was beginning to doubt the niceness of the Harry in this world. She clearly disliked him, and Ron too seemed to have no love for him either. It was rather frustrating.
Hermione raised her eyebrow again in disbelief and pushed open the Potions classroom, obviously trying to tell him silently that she no longer wished to talk with him. Harry was not so easily rebuffed. She was the only person he could trust to help him with this, and after all, how much different could she be in this world than from his own?
He watched her sit down at a table by herself and then promptly sat down next to her, earning a glare from the bushy haired girl.
“What are you doing?” she hissed angrily, her eyes narrowing into irritated slits.
“Sitting by you. Is that a crime now?” Harry asked innocently enough, and was amused to see her scowl. The Hermione he knew rarely made such a childish expression, and he had the happy satisfaction of knowing he had made her unable to retort with an excuse on why he could not sit by her.
She rather angrily pulled out her stuff and made a noise that sounded amusingly like a huff. “Don’t get in my way then.”
Harry grinned slightly and then turned to look up at the teacher. It was Professor Snape, much to his surprise (though he did think he should have known that over-grown bat would be here in this world too). Harry had always hated Snape during his school years, but something happened that had changed how he viewed the man. Something he would never forget….
Harry sat up from the explosion and stared around feeling very dizzy. His eyes were swimming with black spots, and an odd ringing sound was echoing in his brain. Someone groaned from underneath the rubble, and Harry stumbled his way over to find Severus Snape trapped under a large piece of building.
“Snape!”
“You're okay?” Snape asked sharply, concern that Harry had never seen before in his normally pitiless black eyes.
Harry nodded. “Fine.”
“Good…”
“I'm surprised to hear you say that,” Harry muttered. The professor had always hated him, always taunted him…
Snape laughed bitterly. “Don't get me wrong. I still hate you, Potter. I hate the way you look, the way you act. I hate everything about you...”
“Then why-”
“-I did it for Lily.” His eyes closed in pain, whether from his wounds or perhaps the emotional hurt he carried. “I couldn’t let her son die…not when you should’ve been mine.”
“Huh?” Harry couldn’t stop the shock from appearing on his face. “What are you talking about?”
“I loved her, and he took her from me! Your face…is a constant reminder of that.”
“You loved…my mum?” Harry asked quietly. His brain tried to absorb this new information, but he was finding it rather difficult to envision this bitter man feeling anything but hate.
Snape nodded. “We were quite close at school, but things happened... Your father swept her off her feet eventually, and I was left with nothing but bitter memories.”
Harry frowned. “That's no excuse to hate me. I've done nothing.”
“You're right.” He considered Harry through his cold black eyes and smiled slightly. “I always thought you were like your father, Potter. I see now I was wrong. You're more like Lily than you know.”
“Enough of that,” Harry said firmly. He didn’t like the way Snape was talking. “We have to get out of here.”
He stood up and looked around for a way to get the rubble of Snape’s chest. “What can I do to get this off?”
When Snape didn't answer Harry knew it was too late. The man was already dead.
Harry knelt down by his old enemy and Potions teacher and stared at the face he had hated so much. He was surprised to find he no longer felt the resentment he once had.
“I think understand now,” he whispered. “I'm sorry…”
Snape’s dark eyes glittered maliciously in the torchlight as he stared at the students. “Today we will be learning about Strengthening Solution. If any of you so much as think about sneaking some of the potion, it will be an instant detention.”
“See he hasn't changed much,” Harry muttered and leaned his head against his elbow. Even with the changed feelings he held for the man, there was just no getting around that Snape was a bitter, sometimes cruel, and hateful little man.
“The ingredients are in the cupboard, and the instructions are on the board.” Snape once more allowed his eyes to sweep over the class in an intimidating way before he sat down at his desk and started marking some tests.
Harry groaned out of habit and made his way towards the cupboard. As he gathered his ingredients, he noticed Ron talking in a low voice to Seamus Finnigan. They looked at him through narrowed eyes and continued their fast mutterings, causing Harry to pause in his progress and wonder just what he had done to them.
Harry shrugged slightly, knowing there was no way he could figure it out, and weaved his way through the cauldrons back to Hermione. She was staring hard at a beaker and did not seem to notice him at all, though he couldn’t help but wonder if that part was intentional.
“Hermione,” Harry said slowly. “Can you tell me what’s with Ron?”
“You really don't remember anything do you?” she said in some amusement.
Harry looked down, feeling frustrated at how little he knew about this world. Everything was just so different here, and he thought he might have taken it better if it wasn’t for the fact that everyone seemed to hate him.
Sighing irritably, Hermione placed down her beaker and looked at him frankly. ”The two of you used to be such good friends, but last year you were made Quidditch Captain, remember?”
Harry nodded, even if he didn’t. “Sure. So what happened then?”
Hermione raised her eyebrows again but didn’t admonish him. “You removed him from the team- said he wasn’t good enough.”
He felt his mouth drop open in shock. “I what?”
Hermione nodded seriously. “After that things just fell apart. You got into a fight a couple of weeks ago, and I think he’s still angry that you won. I’d watch your back if I were you, Harry. He’s definitely not going to let you off easy.”
Harry groaned and ran his hands over his face. “Just what I need,” he mumbled to himself. Things were really out of hand here, and he couldn’t believe what a jerk the Harry in this world was.
Hermione stared at him curiously but didn’t say anything.
“Well, I guess that clears up that,” Harry mused with a frown. “So what else has been going on?”
“Look, I’m not a Harry encyclopaedia.” She snapped grumpily. “It’s not like I know everything about you. We hardly talk remember?”
“Whoa, calm down!” Harry exclaimed, backing away from her slightly. “I didn’t mean to make you angry.”
Hermione huffed slightly and started chopping up her potions ingredients.
Harry watched her for a moment, noticing the tense way her shoulders were positioned, and how her movements were a bit too jerky for her to be in a good mood. She was obviously extremely frustrated, and it was clear that it was because of him.
“So, can you at least tell me why you hate me so much?” Harry asked her curiously. Now he knew why Ron hated him, but he was unsure why Hermione did.
Hermione’s hand slipped on the knife and caught her finger. She stared at him incredulously, completely ignoring the blood dripping from her hand. He wondered if she even realised it at all.
“Hey, you’re bleeding!” Harry said in alarm and instinctively grabbed her hand away from the knife. He muttered a quick healing spell under his breath and smiled warmly at her as the cut disappeared. Holding her hand like that made everything feel like a strange sense of déjà vu. In that moment he felt like he was back in his own world, with his own Hermione, and he could not stop the warmth and tenderness from creeping onto his face.
Hermione gazed at his hand holding hers with a fascinated look. Slowly she brought her face up to his, and Harry noticed the strange almost searching expression in her brown eyes.
“You’re so different…” she said softly.
Harry quickly dropped her hand and pulled himself together. The last thing he needed was her suspecting anything. “I, uh, don’t know what you mean.”
He looked around nervously and tried to avoid her questioning gaze.
“I know you’ve been acting weird lately, but it’s like you’re a different person.” She shook her head in confusion, her eyes once more falling back to the hand that he had healed. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”
It was just like her to be too perceptive for her own good, but Harry found he could not be angry. In a way he was glad she noticed, because it allowed him to think she was not so different after all. The Hermione he knew had always noticed everything, and would not rest till she had an answer. He knew he had to tell her something.
“Something happened to me. I don’t know what, but now I can’t remember anything.”
Her eyes widened, and she placed an impulsive hand over his. “Do you think someone modified your memory?”
Harry shrugged. “Maybe.”
Of course he knew this wasn’t the truth, but it was better to keep her in the dark at the moment. If he told her he was from another world she’d just think he was crazy again.
“Okay, well I guess I can help you,” she said slowly, taking her hand away again. “Just tell me one thing.”
“What?”
“This isn’t some kind of sick game, is it?”
He stared at her downcast eyes and wondered just what it was he had done to her. “I already told you I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. Please just trust me.”
Hermione looked up and their eyes met. Harry willed her to see that he was being honest; he didn’t know what he had done to her, but he hoped she would find it in her heart to forgive him. He would not hurt her, even if the Harry in this world would.
Slowly she nodded. “I believe you.”
Harry let out a sigh of relief and smiled at her. “Thanks.”
She merely nodded and continued with her work. Harry realised he had better get a move on with his potion too or else he’d be in a lot of trouble. It was lucky that he had gained a few tips about making Strengthening Solution during the war.
As Snape called for the students to bring up their potions, Harry quickly filled his vial and moved over to Snape. He handed the potion over and was surprised that Snape said nothing to Harry but merely nodded his head in Harry’s direction.
Shrugging slightly, Harry followed Hermione out of the classroom and no sooner had he started walking towards the dungeon exit, something very hard connected with his face. Stumbling back, he let out a groan and rubbed a hand to his throbbing cheek. He looked around dizzily and saw Ron’s dark blue eyes flashing with intense hatred directly at him.
“That’s for the other week, Potter. Now we’re even.”
Harry couldn’t even bring himself to do anything, and just stared at Ron’s retreating back, watching as Seamus and Dean came up to him and clapped him on the back praising and laughing. Knowing that Ron had punched him and hated him that much was far more painful than the actual punch.
A cool hand closed over the one on his face and pulled it gently away. He looked down and saw Hermione peering at his face, her eyes not meeting his.
“I told you to watch your back,” she scolded gently. She stood back and gazed at him frankly. “Well it looks like nothing is broken, but come with me to the Hospital Wing and I’ll get you some bruise salve.”
Harry nodded and followed her through the corridors, tentatively massaging his cheek to try soothing his aching face. Ron packed quite a punch.
“Why couldn’t he have just cursed me?” Harry groaned out loud, frustrated now that the pain was finally sinking in.
Hermione laughed. “You’d rather be sprouting tentacles right now?”
Harry shook his head. On second thoughts, perhaps getting punched was not so bad after all.
Suddenly he realised something he had completely forgotten. He remembered Hermione saying once that he had stupid friends, but if he was a not friend with Ron, Seamus and Dean, then who were his friends?
“So, if I’m not friends with Ron…then who am I friends with?” Harry asked curiously, looking down at her face.
“Neville Longbottom, William and Isabella Black… you know?”
“Wait a minute!” Harry gasped, his brain seizing on two of those names. “William and Isabella Black?”
Hermione nodded, though there was a twisted smile on her face. “They’re family friends, and, well, you became close friends too.”
Harry shook his head in wonderment. If they were who he thought they were, than that must mean Sirius Black was alive and well in this world, and that he had children. “How strange,” he mused out loud, wondering just what else was different in this world.
“We’re here.”
Harry snapped himself out of his musings and followed her into the hospital wing. He watched as Hermione bustled around by the cupboards, and narrowed his eyes as she came back with a rather foul smelling cream.
“Here, this will stop the bruising,” she said soothingly and started applying some of the cream to his face before he could protest. It didn’t hurt as much as he thought it might, just smelt terribly.
He stared into her face as she applied the cream, watching the familiar features that he loved so much. Her honey brown eyes were focused on his bruise, and her rosy pink lips were slightly parted as she concentrated, just begging to be kissed. Strands of her bushy brown hair were falling about her pale face, and in one swift movement Harry had moved those silken strands behind her ears.
Harry didn’t know why he had done it. All he knew was seeing her like that made him think of the Hermione he had lost, the girl who had always been there for him, to heal him when he was hurt, and to love him.
Pink spread across her cheeks and she quickly stood back. “Well it seems to be fine now. I think we should go,” she mumbled quickly, her eyes darting nervously away from him.
Harry felt his heart sink, but smiled all the same. “Yeah, let’s go.”
Disclaimer: I do not own any Harry Potter characters etc.
Warning: Book 1-6 spoilers
A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews, and I am sorry for the long wait.
Same but Different
Harry walked down the long dreary corridors, his hand running against the smooth, cold stone that had grown cracked and faded with age. These walls had seen many days and many emotions, and now they saw Harry’s own pain; the pain of belonging to a world that was not his, and being surrounded by people he knew and yet didn’t know. His fingers allowed his sorrow to sink into the stone, giving memory to the ageless walls where even death could not erase. He may not truly be apart of this world, but through his experiences he was leaving his footprints, just as his fingers were leaving marks on the stone around him.
He broke into the pale sun of the courtyard, his eyes drinking in the frosted tips of the castle, and the trees lightly dusted with snow. He could see the other students running and laughing, their happy voices echoing around the chilly grounds as they threw snowballs at each other. This place was full of life, but it was not his home, and the more hours that passed the more he wished he could return to where he was meant to be, to where his memories were safe to live.
Taking a seat on one of the snow-covered benches, Harry stared at the white sprinkled ground with a heavy feeling inside him. After Hermione had healed his bruise and he had foolishly allowed his feelings to get the better of him, Harry had known that he had to get away. Muttering a feeble excuse, he had left the Hospital Wing and made his way down here, leaving a very confused Hermione. It was dangerous for him to get too attached to her; dangerous because she was not the girl he had fallen in love with, no matter how similar they seemed.
“Harry.”
Harry sighed at the sound of the familiar voice and turned his face. He could see Hermione walking towards him a little hesitantly. No doubt she had followed him here. She always did never know when to just quit it, but he could not hold it against her. He should have expected it after all.
“Hermione.” Harry responded with a strained smile.
She stopped in front of him and fidgeted awkwardly with her hands. “Did I offend you before?”
He frowned and looked up at her from where he was sitting, his brow creased in puzzlement. How could she have possibly offended him?
“Why do you say that?”
“Well…” she scratched her face agitatedly and looked down at the ground. “You left so suddenly, and I thought I must have done something. I came here to apologise… I can see that things aren’t going so well for you, and I… well, I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Harry said with a suppressed sigh. She of course had no idea why he had left so suddenly, and so naturally she would assume it was her fault. He was the one who had made her uncomfortable by letting his emotions get the better of him though. It was he who should be apologising really. He couldn’t though. How could he say, ‘I’m sorry Hermione, I just happen to be in love with you, but it’s not really you- it’s the girl in the world I’m really from.’ It was ridiculous to even contemplate.
She seemed to notice his sadness and frustration, and sat down next to him. “What’s wrong, Harry?”
He met her gentle gaze and saw the concern shining forth. Her eyes were always so warm, and it was no different now, with the brown becoming almost amber in the softness of her emotions. It made Harry’s heart ache to see that soft glow in her eyes. He had seen it so many times before on the Hermione in his world, but this wasn‘t his Hermione...
Feeling a sudden pang shoot through his heart, Harry turned away so that he would not have to look at her face. It was too painful now; she was just a reminder to what he had lost. Hermione had been everything to him in his world. She had given him hope when all hope had been abandoned; she had let him smile again when there was no reason to smile. She had made each day that little bit brighter, each night that little bit calmer, and she had made him feel an emotion so powerful and intense that even love could not begin to describe it. How, then, could he keep pretending that he did not love her when she was right in front of him? Granted she was not the same as his Hermione, but everything about her was so familiar. So familiar… and yet so different…
Frustrated that he could not express any of this, Harry quickly stood up. “It’s nothing, Hermione,” he said quietly, and started to walk away from her. He didn’t want to look back, in fear of what feelings her expression might cause him, but he couldn’t help himself. He turned his face and met her eyes- those beautiful, honey-brown eyes that seemed to speak to his heart in a language only they could understand. She looked hurt, and he knew it was because of him; because he could not stop his feelings from surfacing with each glance he stole her way.
Tearing his eyes away, he quickly walked ahead, firmly keeping his gaze in front of him so that he would not turn back. He could not turn back.
“Wait!” Hermione called out suddenly. “We have Defence Against the Dark Arts now. I thought I should remind you, since you don’t remember and all.”
He could see her nervousness and awkwardness and forced a smile for her sake. It was not her fault that this had happened after all. She was innocent in these matters, and it was not fair to ignore her because of it.
“Thank you.”
Hermione nodded, but obviously felt too awkward to stay. She walked off back towards the castle, her bushy hair swaying slightly in the gentle breeze. Harry took a deep breath and turned back to look at the grounds. He could see the lake shimmering in the sun, and the old tree that he, Hermione and Ron had used to lean against on lazy afternoons, with the squid keeping them company by the shore. Harry frowned slightly to himself. If this world was supposed to be a sort of gift to him it wasn’t a very nice one. Everything in this world was just a reminder to what he had lost in his own.
Sighing in resignation, Harry realised he’d better head to class. He followed Hermione’s footsteps back to the castle and headed off down the corridor towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. He could see the students all crowding around and pushed past them as nicely as he could before opening the large door. Hermione’s bushy hair was easily spotted amongst the other students in the classroom, and he was not really surprised to see she was sitting in her usual chair.
He glanced around the rest of the room, pausing once they fell on the teacher now conducting his wand to write on the blackboard. His jaw dropped, his eyes widening in disbelief, pain, and longing all in one. This was a man he knew very well, and as he took a step forward to get a closer look at the familiar scruffy hair, thin face, and bright blue eyes, Harry felt his heart give a funny wobble in his chest. It was James Potter, his father.
“Dad?” Harry whispered disbelievingly. Was it possible? His mother was here too, but seeing his father just seemed like falling into a dream all over again. There were no words to describe the mixture of emotions surging in his chest.
“Harry.” James said cheerfully, once he spotted him, giving Harry a jolly slap on the back. “Glad to see you’re up and well. I wanted to go visit you when you woke but I had classes. Your mother popped in though, didn’t she?”
Harry simply nodded his head, not really sure what to say anyway. He had always dreamed of seeing his parents- to have them with him again- but now that they were here with him it wasn’t as nice as he thought it would have been. Maybe if the circumstances were different he might have enjoyed it, but to lose everything that made his life have purpose just to have parents he didn’t even know back? It just didn’t seem as wonderful like it had when he was eleven years old, creeping into secret rooms to gaze at them in the Mirror of Erised.
James grinned, obviously oblivious to the turmoil going on in his son’s head. “Best take a seat, Harry. We’ll be starting class soon.”
Harry nodded again, still feeling a little lost for words. It only seemed natural to sit down next to Hermione, so he did. She was staring at him with that same concerned look she had been wearing before, and Harry suddenly realised he wasn’t doing a very good job in hiding his emotions. Snape had always told Harry he wore his heart on his sleeve, and it seemed he was right because right now Harry was finding it extremely difficult to hide the disbelief and quiet sadness that threatened to overwhelm him.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Hermione whispered as she leaned towards him. The faint floral perfume she wore tickled his senses and made him close his eyes as memories washed over him. She was wearing the same perfume that Hermione wore in his world.
“Jasmine.”
“Huh?” She blinked and stared at him in bewilderment.
“You’re wearing jasmine.” Harry repeated, as he turned his face to look at her. For a moment she just stared at him in confusion, and then a smile broke on her face that seemed to grow with shy happiness, reaching her eyes so that they were smiling too. He could see her face lighting up with the soft, inward glow he had seen many times on the Hermione in his world, and realised with dismay that the glow lighting up her face was more than just surprised pleasure that he knew her perfume. She was falling for him, just as she had fallen for him in his own world; only Harry knew he could not love the Hermione of this world.
“Yes it is jasmine. How did you know?” she asked with faint tinges of pink on her cheeks.
Harry shrugged and was about to give a probably very pitiful reason on why he knew her perfume, when a shadow descended over him.
“Potter, what the hell are you doing?” A female voice demanded.
Harry turned his gaze in relief at the interruption, and saw a rather tall girl with glittering blue eyes. Her long black hair snaked its way down her back, but it was the expression on her face that gave him pause. Her smile lurked with familiar, mocking humour, and the haughty superiority that lingered in her pretty features told Harry all too well who she was.
“Isabelle Black,” Harry said slowly, feeling another wave of mixed feelings settle over him. She was the perfect, female replica of his godfather, and he could tell just by her expression that her personality was no different.
She raised one thinly dark eyebrow. “Don’t you ‘Isabelle Black’ me, Harry- as if you don‘t know me.”
A boy who looked identical to her- but his hair was cut short with a fringe that fell broodingly around his dark eyes- came over towards them. Harry realised that they were twins, and he also noticed that Isabelle Black had the Slytherin crest on her robes, while the boy, who must be William, had the Gryffindor. Obviously this world did not put much in store in terms of house rivalry if both were his friends.
“Why are you sitting over here?” William Black asked, with his handsome features puckering into confusion. “Neville is waiting for us in our usual spot.”
Harry could sense Hermione’s discomfort, noticing the way she was trying fruitlessly to blend into the wall and hide her face behind her book. It suddenly hit him that his ‘friends’ probably disliked Hermione, and realised that was why she got so upset at any mention of them. He stared back at the handsome twins and shook his head. “I’m going to sit here today, I’m sure you three can handle yourselves.”
Isabelle glanced at Hermione with one of her haughty expressions, just itching to say something Harry knew would not be pleasant. Finally she let out a huff and flounced back to where Neville was sitting. William chuckled slightly at his sister’s ruffled departure and gave Harry a small grin that seemed to mirror the rebellious grin his godfather had used to give when he was mocking someone.
“Don’t worry about her, she’s just upset because Draco told her that she looks ridiculous in the new dress she bought.” William glanced at Hermione briefly, but like his sister said nothing. It was clear who the ringleader of the group was, and Harry felt just a little uncomfortable at the thought.
Harry watched his supposed friend walk back to their table and take a seat next to Isabelle and another boy. All three of them continued to talk quite happily, though occasionally they shot curious glances at Harry and Hermione. Harry’s eyes fell on the boy next to Isabelle, whose round face and happy smile could only belong to Neville Longbottom. This boy was different though. He didn’t shy away, or clumsily make his opinion known; he laughed with confidence, and seemed to effortlessly be able to talk to the Black children. Harry knew this was not the same awkward, shy boy from his own world. This Neville had parents that knew him and loved him. In this world there was no dark shadow to quench the happiness of people like Neville Longbottom.
“Neville,” Harry mumbled to himself, feeling the memory come back to him as vividly as the day he had seen it…
Harry walked through the camp, holding tight the bundle wrapped in some frayed robes against his chest. Most of the tents were darkened, their occupants fast asleep from the day’s battle, the sound of their snores lazily drifting through the night to irritate the more alert group of makeshift soldiers. A few people were huddled by feeble campfires, blowing on their hands as the snowy grounds and frosty air chilled their bodies through their clothes. They were still too shaken to sleep from seeing the domino corpses that had fallen one after the other during the battle that even now continued in scattered bursts amongst the body littered plains. Harry had been like those people once: shivering, scared and hollow, as the memories of the battle played over and over in his mind. Now he’d seen too many deaths to join the throng of blankly staring people, or the quivering children who would cry out suddenly in terrified remembrance of the gruesome deaths they had witnessed. He was numb to the sights that played before his eyes, but nothing, not even time, could slow the painful decay of his soul that came with those deaths.
A scraggly old man with a missing arm nodded to Harry in greeting and gestured for him to take a seat by the fire where he was comforting some of the younger children. Harry shook his head and clutched his bundle tighter, knowing that he had no time to waste for chitchat, or even to comfort some of the survivors.
Crunch, crunch went his feet against the bloodstained snow, creating new bloody footsteps to the tent near the trees where he was heading. The dim light glowed out from inside to outline the shadowy figures inside, like an eerie beacon in a misty night. Taking a deep breath, Harry clutched protectively the bundle in his arms and pushed open the flap of the tent, creeping in as quietly as he could. Hermione greeted him with a strained smile and walked quickly over.
“I was beginning to get worried. Did you get it?”
Harry nodded his head and pulled back the robes that he had been holding to reveal a small vial of blue potion. “Ginny snuck it out for me. She said that the healers are refusing to help anyone else unless they are critically essential to the war. They just don’t have the stock anymore.”
“But that’s horrible!” Hermione cried indignantly. “They can’t just determine who deserves to be healed or not.”
Harry said nothing. He wanted to agree with Hermione, but deep down he knew that the healers had done all they could. The war was dragging on, and the poison inflicted by the rogue goblins’ weapons had taken greater effect than they thought it would, leaving people needing to be cured left right and centre. Those who didn’t get healed in time died a horrible death full of nightmares and delusions, their last breaths screaming at insane visions that made all those around shiver in fear, as their hearts tiredly gave up from the panic that constantly coursed through them. It was a frightening experience, and one no one wanted to see, but now that the stocks were running out the nightmarish deaths would happen more and more.
“And who determines who is worth keeping? Are we to be placed in some sort of pecking order?”
“I don’t know, Hermione,” Harry said tiredly, not wanting to think about this now. There were more important things. She went to speak again, but Harry shook his head to silence her and walked over to the bed where the candle was casting a sickly glow on the round-faced boy muttering feverishly to himself. The boy’s terrified eyes were protruding in a ghastly way from his face, wide, and staring at things only he could see. His hair was plastered with sweat to his forehead, and his body was shaking violently as he rocked back and forth, still muttering unintelligible sentences to himself.
“Hey Neville,” Harry mumbled comfortingly, taking a seat next to the bed and gripping the clammy hand that was flailing about wildly. The poison was already sinking in, causing the nightmares to become progressively worse with each passing moment. Harry hoped he was not too late with the antidote. Ginny said that once the nightmares took hold there was not much hope in helping them break from the delusions. If Neville could not be healed now he would be left to die.
“They’re coming,” Neville muttered with wide, staring eyes, and gripped Harry’s hand in a painfully tight grasp. “I can see them!”
Harry watched his school friend’s eyes glimmer with pure terror, his mouth dropping open as he let out a violent scream that pierced the night with sickening clarity. All who were outside would know another mind was being lost to insanity- another victim was being claimed by the poison.
“Hurry, Harry!” Hermione urged desperately. “Give him the antidote.”
Harry tried to restrain the now thrashing boy so he could give the antidote. ‘Help me hold him down! He’s going to knock it out of my hands if he keeps this up.”
Hermione rushed over and held him down, her eyes glimmering with tears as she listened to Neville screaming in gut-wrenching fear. Harry fumbled with the lid on the vial, his hands shaking in nerves. What if it didn’t work?
Suddenly the door to the tent burst open in a flurry of snow, and a wild looking woman came rushing in with blood dripping down her mangled face, reminding Harry of a snarling, rabid dog- the frothy rage bubbling out from her cracked lips.
“Give it to me!” She screamed hysterically.
Harry had no time to think before the woman was leaping at him, her bloody hands scrabbling and scratching to get the vial out of his hand.
“Give me it! It’s mine! I deserve it just as much as everyone else!”
“Hermione, help me!” Harry shouted, while struggling with the crazed woman that was trying to get the potion.
Hermione aimed her wand at the woman, threatening to curse her if she did not release Harry, but the woman was beyond reasoning. Her wild, blood-shot eyes were fixed on the potion, and she would not let go.
“Just curse her!” Harry yelled edgily, trying hard to push the woman off. The woman clawed at his face and screamed curses at him, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder how she could possibly be so strong.
“STUPEFY!”
The woman went flying into the air because of the sheer power of Hermione’s spell and crashed hard into the corner of the bed. Something shiny in the air caught Harry’s eyes, and he realised with dismay that she must have grabbed the potion just before Hermione had cursed her. The small blue bottle descended sickeningly fast towards the ground and smashed into a thousand tiny pieces on the table, the precious, blue potion spilling out helplessly onto the cold wood.
“It’s gone,” Hermione moaned, looking just as shattered as the shards of glass on the table. “Harry, it’s gone!”
Neville thrashed wildly in the bed and let out another scream while crying for his parents. Harry closed his eyes and banged his fists against the ground. This was not supposed to happen. They were going to heal him. They were going to cure his madness…
“She must have seen you getting the potion from Ginny and followed you here.”
Harry said nothing. No doubt the woman had seen him talking to Ginny, and had watched the exchange. She’d probably then gone to ask for her own potion and had been denied. Now, thanks to her, no one would be cured this night…
Neville continued to scream and call for his parents, and Hermione began to sob quietly. “Is there nothing we can do?”
Harry remained silent, simply watching his friend- a friend who had always been loyal to him- suffer from the delusions the poison was creating in his mind. He wanted to help Neville. He had tried to help him by getting the potion, but there was no hope now. This boy, the boy who had been the sharer in Harry’s own destiny was dying, and all they could do was watch.
The screams continued, and Hermione and Harry did the only thing they could do for Neville; they stayed with him and comforted him the best they could, but not once did he awake from the delusions he was facing.
When the tent finally fell silent, the candle by the bed was barely clinging to life in its pool of wax. Hermione was leaning against Harry with tears streaming down her cheeks, her hand gripping his tightly. Harry himself stared at the bed with his own tears. There would be no waking for Neville Longbottom in the new dawn. He was gone, and all that remained were the two witnesses left to continue the battle, and the memory of another lost friend.
Tearing his gaze away from the laughing boy, Harry took a deep breath and pushed the memory behind him. That was a past he could not have here. This place did not know of the suffering he had seen, and nor should it have to.
“Why don’t you want to sit with your friends?” Hermione asked suddenly, causing Harry to break from the spell his memories had created.
Harry simply shrugged and leaned back against the chair, trying hard to appear at ease, even though inside he was filled with so much confusion and turmoil. “I don’t feel like it.”
She nodded and said nothing more, for which Harry was grateful. He did not feel like talking anymore, faced with the feelings that always threatened to overwhelm him when he remembered his friends’ deaths. His eyes drifted back to Neville, seeing the smile fixed on the boy’s face, and Harry wondered if that face would ever greet him again from the boy Harry had known in his own world. Would he ever be able to leave this place of replicas and be united with those he loved? Would he always be trapped in this world? And where was the real Harry anyway? It was clear that someone had been living the life of Harry Potter in this world, but there was no sight or sound of him anywhere.
“Harry, why don’t you tell us the best spell to use against a blobergruff?”
Harry blinked, and vaguely realised he was being asked a question. He glanced around the room, seeing all the eyes staring right back at him, and then his gaze fell on his father who was smiling confidently at him.
“I… um… Sorry what was the question?”
Everyone laughed, and Harry felt his ears going red. James smiled slightly and repeated the question for him. In truth Harry had no idea what those creatures were, but he heard Hermione whisper the spell near his ear and repeated that, earning glowing praise from his father.
“Thanks,” Harry mumbled to the bushy-haired girl next to him, as his father continued to babble on about the spell.
“It’s okay,” she whispered back with a small smile.
Harry returned the smile, and then glanced back to the blackboard where he started copying the notes on blobergruffs. He discovered that they were a relation to the troll family, and often lived in caves and other dark alcoves, being completely blind in the light. They grew to the height of a full-grown man, and were particularly skilled in hunting their prey, which consisted of any animal, or human, foolish enough to venture into their habitat. The easiest way to deal with them was to simply cast Lumos at their faces, giving the unfortunate witch or wizard time to escape while the blobergruff was blinded.
“Well I think that’s all for today,” James said cheerfully, clapping his hands together. “Remember to finish your essays on discerning a vampire from a human, and enjoy your weekends.”
The students all started filing out of the class, and James quickly made his way over towards Harry’s own table. Wondering what his father could want, Harry placed the last of his books in the bag that his mother had thoughtfully left for him in the Hospital Wing, and then turned to look back at his father.
Hermione looked from one Potter to the next and gripped her bag tighter on her shoulder. “I’ll see you at lunch then, Harry?”
Harry nodded, giving her a small smile as she turned to leave the classroom.
“Is there something you wanted to talk to me about, Dad?” Harry asked, once they were finally alone. It felt weird to say ‘dad’, but to call him James would have been even weirder for Harry.
James nodded his head, bringing his eyes back to his son that had been following Hermione out of the room. “Lily wanted me to talk to you about your”- he coughed awkwardly and rubbed his head- “Your little ‘party’ that you and your friends put on.”
Harry said nothing. For one thing he had no idea what his father was talking about, and really he was just as interested to know what this other ‘Harry’ had been doing. Maybe it would give him a clue on how to find him?
“I can understand why you thought it would be funny to sneak firewhiskey in from Hogsmeade and get drunk with your friends; I can even understand why you thought it would be funny to have a race around the Quidditch Pitch on your brooms.” James paused and rubbed his nose in slight bewilderment. “What I don’t understand is why you then left your group of friends and didn’t turn up again until the Professor found you passed out in the Entrance Hall.”
Harry, who had been feeling just a little surprised at his other self’s behaviour, could only stare at this new revelation. He was the one the professor had found, which meant that the Harry of this world had gone missing the same time he himself had come here.
“What were you thinking, Harry?”
Harry shrugged. Really what else could he do? He didn’t know what this man’s son was thinking when he decided to go off from the group, and Harry himself certainly would not have gotten drunk on school grounds and then tried to go racing while still drunk. Only an idiot would do that.
James sighed and gripped his shoulder. “You’ve got to stop being so reckless, Harry. Your mother is worried sick about you, and I am too. Can’t you try to tone it down a bit? For her sake at least?”
Harry nodded his head.
“Good man.”
Silence fell about them and Harry fidgeted with his hands and looked up at his father. “Can I go then?”
James nodded, and Harry muttered a quick goodbye before leaving the room. He knew what he had to do now. If he could just figure out where the Harry of this world went, he was sure he could get out of this place. The longer he stayed here the more dangerous things would become, especially for Hermione.
A/N: A Blobergruff is a completely made-up creature that I just created on the spot.