Work Text
“It is a curious thing, Harry, but perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it. Those who, like you, have leadership thrust upon them, and take up the mantle because they must, and find to their own surprise that they wear it well.”
“I’ve got to go back haven’t I?”
“That is up to you.”
“I’ve got a choice?”
“Oh yes.” Dumbledore smiled at him. “We are in King’s Cross, you say? I think that if you decided not to go back, you would be able to… let’s say...board a train.”
“And where would it take me?”
– Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows**“Wherever you wish to go,” Dumbledore said simply. Harry turned back to look at the displeasing figure, the horcrux in me , he thought to himself, but found that it was gone. The station was eerily quiet. He looked at Dumbledore again. “Anywhere?” he asked, confused.“Of course. You’ve done quite enough, dear boy.” Dumbledore looked at him, eyes heavy with guilt that to Harry, seemed misplaced.Harry thought of all the people he loved, that he would be leaving behind, and he thought of all the people who loved him, who had left him behind. “I don’t want to die, I don’t think,” he said all in one breath, turning back slowly to Dumbledore.The old wizard met his gaze, and smiled softly. “Then live,” he whispered. Harry was about to ask what he meant by that — for hadn’t he just told Harry he had a choice? That he had done enough, could go anywhere? — when a loud horn startled him. A train was coming in on tracks that Harry was sure weren’t there a second ago, gaining speed the longer he looked at it. He turned back to Dumbledore to ask if this was it, if he had to go back, and face Voldemort all over again, but the old man was gone, just like the horcrux, leaving Harry all alone on the platform. He stood up wearily, and with a heavy sigh, prepared to board the train. As he did so, part of him wished he didn’t have to go back to the world he knew, full of pain, and hard choices, and death. Part of him wished, just for a second, that he didn’t have to be the chosen one. **
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Harry awoke with a start, before remembering the circumstances leading up to this point. He kept his eyes shut, trying not to let them flutter. He slowly let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, body tense, and rigid, for fear of being found out.
He listened for voices, but heard nothing. Was he deaf? He wondered. There had to be voices, there was no way everyone had just left… not without checking that he was dead. Or maybe they had done that already. Maybe he truly was alone. No. Something was wrong. His body felt too...healthy, even for a newly reincarnated person.
He didn’t feel the cold, hard forest floor beneath him. Instead he felt something soft, and warm, cradling his head. And what was that smell? Certainly not pine needles, or blood, or sweat. It smelled like… toast? Harry very slowly and very carefully opened his eyes.
This wasn’t the forest.
His hand instinctively shot up to his forehead, feeling for pain in his scar, but finding none. He was in a bed, he knew that much. He got up slowly regaining his senses, taking in his surroundings, and realizing he was in the Gryffindor boys dormitory.
Was it all a dream then, he wondered? A prophecy perhaps? It can’t have been. It felt all too real, he still felt the pang of loss in his chest.
Fred, Tonks, Lupin… tears welled up in Harry’s eyes and he swallowed a lump in his throat. One problem at a time.
He heard water running in the distance, and turned to his bedside table to pick up his glasses. As he put them on, he noticed a small plate of toast with jam and bacon, and a glass of orange juice on the table and grabbed at it gratefully, suddenly ravenous.
“About time you got up, mate” Ron said, entering their shared dormitory, toweling off his wet hair. “You were out like the dead. Hermione’s been worried sick.”
Harry looked up at his best friend between bites of his breakfast, not really listening to what he was saying.
“Did you get shorter?” He blurted out, the words falling out of his mouth without his permission.
“Oi! I grew 3 inches this summer, what are you talking about?” Ron said back, throwing his towel at Harry. It landed dangerously close to his last piece of toast, which Harry picked up and stuffed into his mouth unceremoniously.
“Sorry,” he shrugged, crumbs falling out of his mouth.
“You’re welcome by the way,” Ron said, nodding at the now empty breakfast plate that sat on Harry’s pajama laden lap. “Thanks,” Harry muttered in response. Whatever was going on was very strange indeed.
“Well, go on then, get ready, quick. Snape’ll have a fit if you’re late again. I’m heading out. See you there, yeah?”
Harry froze. Did Ron just say… “Snape?”
“Bugger, Harry, yeah, Snape. Are you all right? You look pale as a ghost.”
“Yeah,” Harry cleared his throat. “Yeah, fine, sorry. I...just had a weird dream, that’s all. I’ll see you in class.”
Ron nodded, and left the room, and Harry looked at his wristwatch, still sitting on the bedside table. If Snape was alive, Harry needed to see him.
He got dressed in record time and raced down the stairs and out of the dormitory, catching sight of Ron and Hermione down the corridor. He sprinted up to them just as they turned the corner, joining more of their classmates.
“There you are!” Hermione exclaimed, curls flailing as she whipped her head back to look at him.
“Are you feeling alright Harry?”
Before he could say respond, a tall girl with straight Black hair interrupted an out of breath Harry as he fell into pace with his friends. He recognized her as Katie Bell.
“You really should take better care of yourself, Harry,” she said wrinkling her nose.
“Wizarding flu is going around these days, and we can’t afford to lose our Quidditch captain so early in the season.”
Wizarding flu? Harry almost laughed. Why would he be worried about wizarding flu, why were
his friends
worried about wizarding flu, when the world was clearly upside down?
Why were they at Hogwarts? Was the war over? Had he somehow managed to kill Voldemort, and ended up back in school to complete his seventh year? And how was Snape alive?
What exactly did he sign up for when he boarded that train?
Harry was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice when he had arrived at the potions classroom. He entered cautiously, not knowing what to expect.
He took his place at his regular seat, next to Malfoy who looked less than happy to see him. At least some things still made sense.
The doors to the dungeon classroom closed and Snape walked in with a flourish, pulling up his sleeves gracefully as he took his place at the front of the room.
“You’re alive,” Harry whispered, still unbelieving. Snape looked at him sharply.
“Sorry to disappoint, Potter.”
“Er, sorry professor, I just meant,”
“50 points from Gryffindor. For threatening a teacher’s life. And don’t think Dumbledore won’t be hearing about this.”
“Dumbledore? I-”
“That’s enough, Potter. I must begin with the lesson. See me after class.”
Harry found himself anticipating a mean snicker from Malfoy’s direction, but the other boy was oddly quiet. Harry glared at him anyway, mostly out of habit.
He took no notes during the potions lesson, spending the entire class jotting down ideas about what could possibly explain his current situation. Each one seemed more unlikely than the last.
Dream.
No, he crossed that off the list fairly quickly. That would be too easy.
Hallucination.
No.
Am I still dead?
Is this hell?
Is this...heaven?
Limbo??
He settled on “
Ask Hermione.
” just as the class ended. He got up to leave when he remembered he had to stay back to talk to Snape. If this even was Snape. If any of this was even real.
Harry headed to the front of the classroom where Snape was arranging papers at his desk.
“You wanted to see me professor?” He asked uneasily, part of him still not believing Snape was alive and another part worried about losing Gryffindor more points.
“Yes,” Snape said without looking up from his desk.
“I want you to tell your mother I can’t make it to dinner next weekend. Please send my regrets.”
Harry felt his breath catch in his throat.
“My mother…?”
Snape finally looked up from the assignments he was arranging into neat piles on his desk and looked at Harry quizzically.
“Yes, Potter,” he said slowly. “Your mother.” He drew out the words as though that would make them make more sense.
“I’m sorry — sir,” Harry began, before being promptly cut off.
“Well you’d better be off now Potter, I won’t be held responsible for you missing another transfiguration lesson.”
“Right,” Harry said in a daze.
He was halfway out of the classroom when Snape called out after him.
“Oh and Potter?”
“Yes professor?” Harry said turning back quickly, hoping to finally get some answers.
“Do take some ginger root potion, you look like you’re coming down with Wizarding flu.”
**
20 minutes later Harry found himself in the middle of a Transfiguration lesson, still not sure what to make of the words Snape had uttered to him so casually.
“Tell your mother I can’t make it to dinner.”
Was this some kind of cruel joke? Or could his parents actually be…if Snape was alive then perhaps, by some miracle... Harry stopped himself from hoping.
He wondered for a brief moment whether everyone he knew was playing some sort of awful, elaborate prank on him. Or whether he had simply gone mad.
After receiving an icy stare from McGonagall, he decided the question of his sanity would have to wait.
The rest of the lesson went without incident and Harry bolted out of the classroom as quickly as his feet would allow.
Ron and Hermoine will be in the Great Hall by now,
he figured, making his way through a crowd of hungry students.
But by the time he got there his friends were nowhere to be seen.
Cautiously, Harry took a seat at the Gryffindor table, steeling himself for what the rest of the day might bring.
A few glances around the hall showed him everything looked just as he remembered it before leaving Hogwarts for his horcrux hunting mission.
Students bustled around their house tables, chatting loudly and laughing as though there was no war, no threat of mass genocide by an evil maniacal arsehole with an inferiority complex.
Pushing thoughts of Voldemort — and whatever was happening to him — away, Harry decided to focus on feeding himself.
He looked down at his plate, grateful to see it magically fill with his favourite foods — treacle tart, chicken pot pie, potatoes. A bit heavy for lunch, but there was no way he was complaining.
He took his time eating, savouring the food. He didn’t remember the last time he had anything close to resembling a meal this good.
Must have been at the Burrow
, he thought, feeling a pang of sadness.
He washed down his lunch with pumpkin juice and stood to get up when a moving picture on the front page of the day’s
Daily Prophet
caught his eye. Someone must have forgotten it at the table at breakfast.
The picture was of him — no surprise there. It was what he was doing that caught his attention.
He was flying on a broom, wearing a Quidditch uniform — Harry couldn’t quite make out which team — smiling triumphantly with the golden snitch flickering in his hand.
HOGWARTS PRODIGY RECRUITED BY PUDDLEMERE UNITED, the headline read. Exclusive interview on page 4.
Harry sat back down, grabbing the paper to read the article.
If the
Prophet
was to be believed, he spent his summer holidays at a training camp for Puddlemere and it was speculated that he’d be going back during the winter hols in a few weeks time. There was no mention of the war or of Voldemort and even more astonishing, the picture of him, hair flapping in the wind, was missing a distinct lightning shaped scar.
Somewhere in the middle of the article he saw a quote attributed to his “proud parents” but he couldn’t bring himself to keep reading. Instead Harry’s eyes settled on a photo of himself with his parents standing behind him, one of James’ hands on his shoulder while his other arm was draped across Lily’s. They looked for all the world like a normal, happy family.
He suddenly felt sick.
Just as he was gearing up to leave, his friends started piling in beside him. Faces he hadn’t seen in ages. Seamus, Parvati and Padma, Luna and Dean safe and healthy and not locked up in a dungeon. Ginny.
Ginny.
Harry gulped. His chest felt tight with guilt and sadness at seeing his former girlfriend. Current girlfriend? He wasn’t sure what they were in this…whatever it was…but he knew he wasn’t ready to face her. Or any of them, really.
Unfortunately, all of this was lost on his friends. Just as he turned to leave he was pulled back down by an insistent Seamus.
“Not so fast superstar!” he laughed in his thick Irish accent.
“Hey Seamus,” Harry managed, finding himself sitting smack dab in the middle of the group.
“Ready for round two with Puddlemere, then?” Seamus asked, nodding at the paper in his hands.
“Sure he is,” Dean said, joining the conversation. “Unless the lads have been working you too hard?”
“Er, no” Harry started, moulding his features into what he hoped looked like a smile. “I mean, yeah. I’m looking forward to it.”
The conversation seemed to go on without him, his friends speculating over his prospects as a pro Quidditch player and going over the stats of current players in the league.
Harry looked around the table, his gaze settling back on Ginny.
She looked good. Happy, even. As though sensing Harry was staring, she turned and met his eyes, flashing him a bright smile before reaching over to grab the paper.
“Bugger, Harry. It looks like you even gave Krum a run for his money last time around,” she said, eyes scanning the article.
Harry’s stomach lurched as he attempted a smile back, unsure of what to say. Or where they stood.
Were
he and Ginny still a couple? Or rather, would they become one like they had in his reality (because by now he’d convinced himself he was definitely not in the world he knew) or had they ever even been a thing to begin with?
The answers would have to wait, he decided. He had far more serious things to figure out first.
Harry finally made his escape during Seamus and Dean’s attempts to start a betting pool on whether or not he’d be a full fledged team member by the end of the school year.
He had just entered the Gryffindor common room, thanking the gods to learn he had the afternoon free from any more confusing lessons with may-or-may-not-be dead teachers when he spotted Ron with one arm under Harry’s favourite armchair.
“Need some help?” He asked.
Ron looked up quickly, bumping his head on a side table.
“Bloody hell, Harry you scared me half to death!” Ron cried.
“Sorry,” Harry said sheepishly, heartened by the fact that his best friend at least seemed to be the same as the one he remembered.
“And yes if you must know I’m looking for my charms essay.”
“Under the couch?” Harry asked, confused.
“Don’t ask,” Ron muttered. “Anyway, I’m sure it’s here somewhere,” he said taking a break from his search to face Harry properly.
He took a moment to study Harry, then, before asking the dreaded question.
“What’s going on with you, lately?”
“Hm? Nothing,” Harry shrugged, feigning confusion. If this Ron was anything like his Ron, it would probably be best to come to him when Harry had a few answers of his own first.
Ron didn’t seem convinced.
“I was just going to see Hermione,” Harry said before he could be interrogated further. “I had to ask her something. Homework related, you know.” He cleared his throat. “So, have you seen her?”
That did the trick.
“No,” Ron said quickly, his face suddenly flushed. “And if you find her then you haven’t seen me either, got it?” He punctuated his point with a raised brow and a finger pointed in Harry’s direction.
“Why, what…” Harry started before thinking better of it. “You know what, nevermind. I’ll check the library.”
“Good luck!” Ron called, already back to his search for his essay.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
A thorough search of the library proved useful and Harry was relieved to find Hermione sitting at a table, her bushy hair acting as a beacon in the stack of books surrounding her.
“Hermione!” He called. The brunette startled, her stack wobbling dangerously with the movement. Harry rushed to help stabilise the tower of books.
“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said, sounding relieved. “Feeling better?” She asked, getting back to her notes.
Harry looked at her carefully, unsure how to go about asking for her help.
“Actually, there’s something I want to talk to you about,” he said slowly, taking a seat opposite her.
“Did Ron put you up to this?” She looked up at him again, her eyes flashing in anger.
“Um, no,” Harry began but before he could go on Hermione sighed, and slouched down into her chair.
“Is everything alright between the two of you?” He asked, wondering what could have happened since breakfast that morning.
“Oh you know,” Hermione said, looking embarrassed. “Same old. I caught him sneaking Lavender into the prefect’s bathroom.”
Harry stared at his friend in confusion. “Lavender…Brown? But he hasn’t been with her since…”
And then it dawned on him.
Ron hadn’t been with Lavender since sixth year. The same year Harry was captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Ron wasn’t shorter, he was
younger.
Snape, Dumbledore, even others presumably…they were all alive because it hadn’t happened yet.
The war hadn’t happened yet. Harry was in the past.
That still doesn’t explain the remark Snape made about my mother, though,
he thought to himself.
His face blanched. “Unless…” he whispered aloud, thinking back to his wish on the train platform.
“Listen, forget I said anything, Ron isn’t going to change and I…well I’ll be fine.” Hermione said, not looking or sounding totally convincing.
Harry said nothing, still lost in his thoughts.
“Harry?” His friend said gently, as though speaking to a terrified kitten. “You don’t look too good…do you need me to take you to the hospital wing?”
Harry looked up at her, eyes wild.
“What? No. Um, sorry about Ron, Hermione, really. But something strange is going on and if anyone can help me figure it out it’s you.”
“Okay…” his friend prompted.
“And you’re going to think I’m mad but please hear me out.”
Hermione nodded, looking concerned and Harry sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day, wishing everyone would stop giving him that
look
as if
he
were the crazy one.
Then he jumped into his story.
By the time he had finished telling Hermione everything that had happened to him — and answering all of her questions to the best of his ability — the sun had set and most students had left the library.
Thankfully, Hermione seemed to be taking everything he told her pretty well.
“So let me get this straight,” she said, chewing on the end of her quill.
“You’re from the future? And in this future…you’re something called ‘the chosen one,’ your parents and many of our friends and teachers are dead…and there’s an all out war going on against You Know Who?”
“Voldemort,” Harry corrected automatically. “But that’s the gist of it, yes.”
Hermione nodded and looked down at the page in front of her thoughtfully. “Right, then. Let’s sort this out shall we?”
Harry smiled gratefully at his friend, feeling some semblance of calm for the first time that day.
After being filled in on what was different in this timeline — that’s the theory they were going with, that he’d landed himself in a different timeline — Harry was thoroughly exhausted and not a little disturbed.
In this reality, Harry wasn’t the so-called chosen one, Neville was. Except, no one really seemed to know it.
Harry learned Neville’s parents were dead, sacrificing themselves to save their son, who was sent to stay with his grandmother under a fidelius once it became clear Voldemort was after him — so he wasn’t at the house when Frank and Alice Longbottom were killed.
Frustrated, Voldemort then went after Harry, just to be safe, but Snape found out about Peter Pettigrew’s betrayal of the Potters and ratted him out to Dumbledore just in time to protect Lily.
The old wizard confronted Voldemort at the Potters’ cottage and hit him with the killing curse. Pettigrew got away.
That change led to more discrepancies from Harry’s timeline.
Neville had been key to defeating Quirrell in first year, though Ron, Hermione and Harry, were with him. (The incident with the troll in the bathroom still cemented the trio’s friendship, and Neville wasn’t there for that.)
Harry and Hagrid weren’t close — he learned about the philosopher’s stone by overhearing Dumbledore talking about it under his invisibility cloak. Harry thought it would be a laugh to find the powerful object and went after it with Ron and Hermione in tow.
Neville had been trying to stop them from losing house points, and in the end he and Harry had the pleasure of facing Quirrell together.
Ginny was never taken by the basilisk in second year. Another student was, and Lockhart managed to save her but died in the process. Hermione had no idea about Tom Riddle’s diary or what may have happened to it.
Third year was pretty uneventful.
Sirius had always been free and Snape was, if not friends,
friendly
with him, and James, and Remus — and a trusted member of the Order of the Phoenix. Except the Order was pretty much defunct, since everyone thought the threat was gone.
Remus was still the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in third year, but Hermione had never had a timeturner for her classes.
“Seems a bit irresponsible of them to give a student that kind of power, doesn’t it?” She’d asked when Harry told her that part.
Neville was the triwizard champion, and like Harry he got help from Barty Crouch Jr. masquerading as Madeye Moody who replaced Remus on staff as he did in Harry’s reality. But unlike Harry, Neville didn’t go to the graveyard. He let Cedric take the cup and he came out of the maze alone. Cedric’s body was found at the graveyard, but Voldemort wasn’t yet resurrected.
So even though Neville was the chosen one, he didn’t know the full weight of what that meant. He didn’t know about the prophecy.
Lupin was reinstated as defense professor in fifth year – there was no Umbridge, no Dumbledore’s Army, no fight at the ministry.
And that brought them here, to sixth year. Where Snape still taught potions. Which meant there was no Slughorn. Which meant Dumbledore didn’t know about the horcruxes.
Harry’s head was spinning.
“Harry?” Hermione reached a hand across the table to squeeze his. “Are you alright?”
Harry was definitely not alright. But something else occurred to him. In his timeline, this was the year Harry’s thoughts were consumed by one person.
“What’s the deal with Draco Malfoy?” He asked.
Hermione rolled her eyes.
“Ugh Draco? What about him?”
“Well…does he…is he —” Harry didn’t know quite how to put this.
“Is he still a huge prat?” Hermione guessed.
Harry raised his brows and let out a chuckle.
“Er yeah.”
“Well then yes. But the two of you seemed to be getting on
quite
well over the summer,” she said with a raise of her brow. “Or I suppose, the other you? Is there another you?”
“Hermione, focus. You said I-he,
this
Harry, whatever, is close with Malfoy?”
Hermione looked at him curiously. “Yeah, at Sirius’? During the hols? He…” Hermione trailed off at Harry’s confused look. “Harry, he lives with him.”
Harry shook his head, trying to process this new information. “I’m sorry, who lives with him?”
“Sirius took Draco in after fourth year.”
“What?!” Harry all but shouted.
“Shush!” At Madame Prince’s furious glare, Harry lowered his voice and leaned in towards Hermione, who gave him an irritated look of her own for getting Pince’s attention.
“Sorry. But Hermione, why would Sirius take in a death eater?” To his surprise, this earned him a laugh.
“A- a death eater! Ha! Honestly, Harry, that’s a good one.”
Harry looked back unsmiling and Hermione’s face sombered. “Oh goodness. You’re serious aren’t you? Christ, but your timeline is
dark.
”
When he said nothing, she went on.
“Harry, Draco isn’t a death eater. Yes his
family
is certainly full of … questionable characters, but Draco, no. He’s a prat, but he left off all the pureblood superiority shite back in third year, when he stopped hanging out with Crabbe and Goyle. Now if you want to talk future death eaters, I’d put my money on those two,” Hermione shuddered
“Anyway, Draco’s mother, well she’s Sirius’ cousin, did you know? And Andromeda’s sister.”
Harry nodded. He’d seen Malfoy’s name on the family tapestry at Grimmauld Place.
“Right. Well apparently Malfoy senior was at the graveyard that night when, you know. And whatever happened there had Narcissa terrified. She went straight to Andromeda and Sirius and asked them to take Draco in and keep him safe.”
Hermione paused, contemplating her own words. “You know, maybe it’s not so far-fetched after all. Maybe they did want Draco to become a death eater eventually, and that’s why she did it,” she speculated. “But anyway. Yeah, you two seemed…cozy over the break.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry asked, horrified at the implication. There was no way she was saying what he thought she was saying. Sure, even though Harry hadn’t given much thought to his sexuality, he could admit there were boys he’d found attractive throughout his school years. But
Malfoy?
“Well, I mean, the two of you weren’t exactly subtle…”
“What about Ginny?!” Harry interrupted before she could share details he had no interest in hearing.
Hermione looked confused. “Ginny? What do you mean?”
“Well, aren’t she and I…didn’t she, I mean…were we never a thing?” Harry stammered.
It was Hermione’s turn to look disgusted. “Gross, Harry, she’s like a sister to you.”
Harry sat there stunned for a while, going over everything he’d just learned while Hermione finished her work. He finally left the library an hour later at her insistence.
“You need rest! I’ll get some research done and we’ll circle back tomorrow.”
On his way back to the Gryffindor common room, Harry allowed himself a break from thinking about everything that was different, and allowed himself to appreciate the things that remained the same.
He admired every step of the winding staircases and greeted every painting and ghost he passed by.
He forgot how much he missed his home.
When he finally got to his room, he fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit his pillow, wondering what fresh hell tomorrow would bring.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Harry laughed running through the field hand in hand with his parents, giggling whenever they lifted him off the grass, relishing in the feeling of flight.
Sirius Black appeared in front of him, holding out a Christmas gift — yes! It was the Nimbus 2000. He ran into his godfather’s arms and was swept up into a hug as the flash of a camera went off.
Hermione and Ron were suddenly next to him, trying to tame Fluffy. And there was Neville, looking scared but determined.
Then Harry was on a broomstick, speeding towards the golden snitch, rain pelting down on him, his vision blurry.
In the distance he could hear his friends calling his name.
“Harry! Harry! Harry!”
“Harry!”
He woke with a start, eyes flashing open to see Ron towering over him again.
Harry took a deep breath and moved to get up, leaning back on his elbows and thanking Ron when he passed him his glasses.
“So are you just going to be waking me up everyday now?” He asked dryly.
Ron frowned. “As long as you keep sleeping in mate,” was the response Harry got as he flopped back down in bed.
“Oi!” He yelped as Ron tore back his sheets, exposing him to cool air from the open window on the far side of the room. Bloody Seamus and his abnormally high body temperature.
“You got a letter,” was all Ron said before tossing a thick white envelope at him and turning to leave.
“Everyone’s waiting for you on the pitch. Try not to be too late, yeah?”
“Er yeah, got it, be right there,” Harry called back to Ron’s retreating figure. Most of the beds around him had their curtains closed, and Harry could see why as he bounded towards the window, closing it shut.
It couldn’t be later than six in the morning, from the looks of the sky, so why the bloody hell was Ron on his case about getting out of bed?
Harry wracked his brain, starting to feel more awake as he moved back to the bed to get ready for the day.
The pitch.
Ron said people were waiting for him…Quidditch, of course. Harry was captain.
As he made his way to the grounds, broom in hand, he felt himself grinning for the first time since this madness began.
Two hours later, Harry was showered and back in bed, utterly exhausted and happy for the first time in what felt like forever.
He should have known it wouldn’t last.
He turned over to lay on his stomach, fully intending to go back to sleep seeing as it was Saturday, when he felt something crinkle beneath him.
It was the letter Ron mentioned that morning. Harry picked it up cautiously, running his wand over the envelope looking for any sign of trouble. When he found none, he opened it to find a single sheet of paper.
Dear Harry,
the letter began, and with a deep inhale, Harry started to read. Ten minutes later he was still staring at the sheet of paper in his trembling hands.
It wasn’t a letter from the order, or from Dumbledore, or a missive from the ministry. It was something far more ordinary – and far more unexpected.
The note was from his parents.
They wrote that they’d seen the paper the other day and told him they were proud of him. His father made groan-worthy jokes. His mother hoped he was taking care of himself, and reminded him they were coming up to see him at the next Hogsmeade weekend. They wondered if he’d like them to bring him anything.
He looked down at the signature again, tracing the words his parents had written.
With love, mum and dad.
He had a mum and dad.
The sound of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts, and he blinked away his tears just as Neville entered the dormitory. Neville, whose parents were dead. Harry offered his friend a smile, trying not to feel guilty.
“Hey Nev, alright?” Neville turned to look at him startling out of thoughts of his own.
“Oh. Hey Harry. Yeah, you?” He said running his hands through his hair. The moment he turned to face him fully Harry saw the scar.
It was like his, but different. For one it didn’t resemble lightening, but more just a deep gash. And instead of his forehead, it was on his cheek.
“Harry? Mate?”
Harry blinked, realizing he was staring. “Yep all good here. Were you looking for something?”
“Just Trevor. You seen him?”
“No, sorry,” Harry offered with a sheepish smile. He left the dorm to let Neville get on with his search. He had his own to do.
By the time Harry reached the Great Hall and took a seat next to Hermione, she was already half-finished with her breakfast and poring over notes for some class or other.
She looked up from her reading briefly to greet him with a warm smile. “Sleep okay?”
“Really well actually,” he said, piling his plate with enough food to feed a quidditch team. “It’s good to be back here.”
“I’m glad,” Hermione said, closing her books to face him fully. “Look, I know it was a lot of information for you yesterday, Harry, I shouldn’t have told you everything like that all at once. I’m sure it came as a shock.”
“No, please, Hermione,
I’m sorry
, I know it’s pretty unbelievable,” he said with a short laugh.
Hermione bit her lip, not meeting his eye. At her expression, Harry knew he said something wrong.
“About that.”
“Yes?”
“I’m not saying I don’t believe you, Harry, I do. Mostly because I can’t think of any reason you would lie about something like this…but I’ve also done some research and it seems like while there have been accounts of wizards claiming to have visited different timelines throughout history, there’s never been any, well, proof.”
“What are you getting at, Hermione?”
“Don’t you think we should maybe consider telling a professor-”
“No!” Harry interrupted his friend before she could change his mind with reason and logic.
“I just think I’m a bit out of my depth here, Harry. McGonagall or Lupin…even Snape might know-”
“Hermione, I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’d rather keep things between us for now, alright? I just don’t know who I can trust…”
She gave him a look. “Not even Ron?”
Harry winced. “Not-not yet. And besides, you’re the brightest witch of our age. I know we can figure this out together.”
Hermione closed her eyes as though praying for patience and then took a deep breath. When she opened them again, Harry saw a familiar look of determination on his friend’s face that had always given him hope.
“Alright,” she said with a faint smile. Harry grinned triumphantly.
“But if we run into anything dangerous, or anything that could jeopardize this timeline more than you already have…I’m going straight to McGonagall.”
“Deal.”
Over the following weeks, Harry fell back into the habit of being a Hogwarts student. Between classes and quidditch, and stalking Draco Malfoy the best he could (this Harry didn’t have the Marauders map and for someone he was supposedly ‘cozy’ with, Malfoy was quick to run whenever he got near), and spending time with his friends, he almost forgot he wasn't supposed to be there.
Almost. Luckily Hermione didn’t let him forget. She found a way to carve out two hours in his schedule everyday to discuss their research and updates and make note of things that didn’t add up.
For one, Harry didn’t have the lightning shaped scar on his forehead or the mark of the locket on his chest. Neither did he have a scar from the gash on his forearm that Wormtail gave him at the graveyard. But he still had
I must not tell lies
etched into his skin and a burn scar from his time at the Dursleys.
Hermione theorized that the scars associated with Voldemort were gone because his connection to him didn’t exist in this timeline — and perhaps they would interfere with the way things were meant to progress here if they weren’t erased. But everything else that made him who he was in his other life, including the scars from Umbridge’s punishment, remained.
“Oh,” Harry said after hearing her explanation. “I suppose that makes sense. Neville’s already got the scar, well a different scar but same idea,” he thought aloud, shifting on the common room sofa to get more comfortable.
“Harry, Neville got those scars on his face from the dragon in the triwizard tournament. They weren’t from v-Voldemort. He’s never faced him in a duel, not really.”
“Oh that’s right. He wasn’t there the night his parents died. But what about Quirrell?”
“The way I remember it, the two of you stunned Quirrell before he could cast a spell and then made a run for it. But Harry, why should it matter whether Neville’s been marked by Voldemort or not?”
Harry’s heart dropped, Hermione’s words triggering his memory of the prophecy.
“He was never marked as his equal,” he said quietly. “What?” Hermione asked, bewildered.
Just then, a loud squeak tore Harry from his thoughts. He turned and saw an ugly rat leap off the armchair by the fire and run towards the portrait hole.
“Oh fuck!” Harry yelped. “Stupefy!”
The rat fell limp and Harry approached it slowly, wand held out in front of him.
“Harry!” Hermione whispered furiously, coming up behind him and grabbing his arm.
“What are you doing! It’s just Scabbers! If he’s dead Ron’s going to have a fit…”
Harry ignored her, pulling his arm out of Hermione’s grasp and poking the creature with the toe of his trainer to make sure it was really unconscious.
“I need a cage or a box or something. Quick!”
He heard footsteps go up the stairs and a moment later Hermione returned with a small chest.
Harry took it and trapped the rat he knew to be Wormtail inside before facing her.
“This isn’t Scabbers, Hermione. Or well it is. But it’s also Peter Pettigrew. He’s an animagus. He’s-ugh he’s been here the whole time! If he’s overheard us then Voldemort is at an advantage.”
Hermione stood there in silence, eyes wide.
Harry ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “I think you’re right. I think it’s time I spoke to Dumbledore.”
“Harry, you can’t just speak to Dumbledore, he’s the headmaster! He doesn’t have time to meet with students.”
Harry groaned. “Fine! Then McGonagall, Snape, anyone.”
“How about me, mate?” Ron stood by the entrance to the stairway, arms crossed, looking at Harry expectantly.
“Ron! What are you doing up?” Hermione jumped in surprise.
“Thought I heard someone mention Scabbers, and when I checked his cage he wasn’t there,” he said not looking away from Harry. “What have you got there, by the way?” He asked, pointing at the wooden chest in Harry’s hands.
Hermione hastily spelled some airholes into the tops and sides of it. Harry shot her an irritated look.
“It’s nothing, it’s fine Ron, just go back to bed,” he tried. When his friend didn’t budge, Harry sighed.
“Fine, have it your way. But you might want to take a seat.”
By the time Hermione and Harry finished explaining the fact that Harry wasn’t actually from this timeline to Ron to the best of their ability and convinced him not to let Scabbers run free, Harry was exhausted.
“So let me get this straight. You want to kill my pet rat, because you’ve gone mental. And I’m supposed to let you?”
Harry let out an exasperated breath. “I knew this was a bad idea. I’m not mental, Ron. And that rat is
not
a pet. I can prove it.”
Ron narrowed his eyes at Harry. “How?”
Harry turned to Hermione then, who was looking back and forth between them like she was watching a tense match of wizarding chess. “There’s a spell. To turn animagi back into their human form, isn’t there?”
“Yes, but-”
“So we’ll do it then,” Harry said with a tone of finality.
Hermione scowled. “If you’d let me finish,” she huffed. “There is a spell, yes,
but
it’s incredibly complicated, Harry, it’s way beyond our skill level.”
Harry looked at her in shock.
His
Hermione had never met a spell she couldn’t master. And he told her as much.
“What? Hermione, you brewed polyjuice in
second
year!” He pointed a finger at Ron. “
You
destroyed a hor…er, cursed necklace with the sword of Gryffindor just a few
months
ago, back in my world. And not to brag – but, I mean, I learned to cast a corporeal Patronus in third year. I fought off the bloody imperius curse at 14! We
have
the skill!”
His friends shared a look that was all too familiar to Harry, having seen it on his own Ron and Hermione’s faces countless times.
Harry growled in frustration. “Fine. I’ll learn it on my own. But when I do, and when I prove that that rat isn’t what you think it is, will you
please
consider the possibility that I’m not completely mad?”
“Yeah, of course mate,” was Ron’s stunned reply.
”Oh Harry, I don’t think you’re
mad
,” Hermione started, but Harry cut her off with a betrayed glare. She shrunk in his gaze.
“I really brewed polyjuice potion in second year?” She asked after a moment.
Harry tried not to get his hopes up. “Yeah,” he said with a small smile.
“And me, the sword of Gryffindor came to me?” Ron chimed in.
“Pretty much,” Harry shrugged, fudging the truth a bit. To make up for it, he added “oh, and we broke into Gringotts and flew out on a dragon.”
His friends still looked unconvinced, so sighing, Harry pulled out his wand and conjured his patronus. He relaxed when he saw Ron’s features break out into a huge grin. “Wicked!”
“Oh,” Hermione breathed.
“So…you’ll help?” Harry ventured.
Ron shrugged. “I mean, yeah, Harry, you’re my best mate. Mental or not.”
Harry ignored the jab and turned to Hermione next.
She smiled reluctantly back at him. “I’ll head to the library first thing tomorrow to see what I can find.”
“Brilliant.” Harry sighed in relief.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The next few days were spent mastering the spell to change Peter Pettigrew back into a human being.
They waited until the weekend to cast it, when no one would notice if they weren’t around, and Harry led them to the shrieking shack for optimal privacy. And maybe a bit of nostalgia.
Together, they pointed their wands at the rat, still magically encased in the small wooden trunk, the lid now open.
“Irritum Facio!” Harry, Ron, and Hermione shouted at once, and a blue light flashed from their wands into the box.
In the next moment a man stood where the rat once sat, tripping over the wooden box and landing on his back.
Bloody hell! Ron squealed, falling backwards in fear. “Who the fuck are you? What the fuck have you done to Scabbers?!”
While Hermione helped Ron up, Harry pinned Pettigrew to the ground, the tip of his wand pushing into his throat.
“Harry,” the man croaked. “You-you look so much like your father.”
Harry jabbed his wand more forcefully into Pettigrew’s windpipe. “Shut up,” he growled. “What did you hear?”
“Nothing,” Pettigrew whimpered. “Please,” he begged grabbing Harry’s legs.
Harry looked back to his friends, Ron still pale as a ghost but back on his feet and somewhat recovered from his shock.
He moved to stand beside Harry. “You stay away from him!” he yelled, kicking at Pettigrew.
Harry felt like he stepped into a pensieve. He took a step back before he did something he’d regret. “So, now do you believe me?” he asked his friends.
“I always believed you,” Hermione answered with a huff, coming up to stand on Harry’s other side.
“Yep, sorry to have doubted you and all Harry, but what do we
do
with him?” Ron said, still standing over his former pet rat in horror.
“Stupefy!” Hermione’s spell hit Pettigrew square in the chest, his body falling limp on the ground. She pushed past Harry to get closer. “Reverti!”
In an instant, Pettigrew was back in his animagus form, still stunned on the ground. “I always hated this thing,” she said, reaching out to put him back in the box. She followed the action with about 10 locking and protection spells Harry had never heard of before.
He stared at her. “What?” She asked. “I wanted to be prepared.”
Harry couldn’t help but laugh – partly at the absurdity of it all, but mostly out of relief that his friends were really in this with him. After a beat, Ron and Hermione joined him.
In the end, they decided to keep Pettigrew locked away under a stasis charm until they could figure out who to take him to.
“What about your parents?” Ron suggested later that evening as Harry was preparing for bed. “You said they were friends with him right? So maybe they’ll know how to get him to talk.”
The thought hadn’t even crossed Harry’s mind. While he knew his parents were alive in this timeline, he still hadn’t got a chance to meet them or speak to them in person. The thought of doing that felt surreal.
“I suppose,” he said. “They did say they were going to come up for the next Hogsmeade weekend.”
“Brilliant! That’s next week!”
The news rattled Harry. He hadn't realized how much time had already passed since he’d arrived in this place.
“Sirius’ll probably be there too,” Ron continued, oblivious to Harry’s inner panic.
“Maybe we could ask Lupin to join us as well? And tell them together? Although I suppose we’ll have to find a way to get rid of Malfoy.” Ron wrinkled his nose.
Harry blinked.
“Why would Malfoy be there?”
“Well Sirius’ll be wanting to see him, I imagine. And you know, I figure since you two are together and all…”
Harry sat up in bed and turned to his friend.
“Ugh. Gross! Stop it, I’m not
dating
Malfoy! And besides, if we’re so in love-”
“Whoa. Didn’t say anything about love, mate. Besides,
you
may not be dating him but he’s definitely dating our Harry. Er, no offense.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Fine, if we’re supposedly so
into
each other then why has he been avoiding me and acting so weird?”
Ron yawned. “Dunno. Sure you didn’t forget an anniversary or something?”
Harry threw a pillow at him.
“What! I’m just saying, maybe you forgot to get him a present for the anniversary of your first date, or first … whatever,” he said with a wave of his hand.
“Lavender’s mental about those things.”
Harry groaned and shut his curtains. That night he dreamed of blond hair and grey eyes.
**
The next day in Potions, Harry was determined to get through to Malfoy — or at least have a conversation with him that consisted of more than “pass the dried billywig sting.”
If Harry was meant to be Malfoy’s boyfriend, he figured he was doing a pretty bad job of it the past couple of weeks. Maybe that was why he was getting the cold shoulder.
He kept Ron’s advice in mind, and decided to take a gentler approach.
“Hey,” he said with a smile, sitting down next to him.
“Potter,” was the response he got.
“Um listen, I know it’s been a bit…weird between us lately,” he started, unsure what exactly this reality’s Harry would do in this situation.
He reached out awkwardly for Malfoy’s hand but Malfoy quickly pulled away.
Harry tried not to show his relief.
“So, I know we said we would go to Hogsmeade together this weekend…” Harry continued, hoping that had in fact been the plan.
“Er, but I thought maybe we could get together before then, to…”
to what?
Harry thought.
Give me a chance to collect intel? Figure out if you’re up to something?
“…too,” he finished lamely. Behind him, Hermione stifled a laugh. Harry glared at her.
“Look, Ma-ah,” Harry changed course when he felt Hermione kick his chair. “
Draco
, can we just talk?”
Malfoy finally looked at him, albeit suspiciously. “Fine. Meet me at the library at lunch tomorrow,” he said.
Harry grinned. “Great! I mean, yeah, sounds good.” He coughed, then added, “looking forward to it.”
This time Hermione didn’t even try to cover her laughter.
When Malfoy didn’t show at the library the next day, or to Potions the day after, or answer any of Harry’s carefully crafted letters (for which he had to endure Ron’s unabashed mocking), Harry grew suspicious.
He grabbed his cloak and decided to skip his next class, opting instead to break into Filch’s office, praying that by some miracle he’d find what he was looking for.
Ten minutes and a close call with Mrs. Norris later, Harry emerged victorious.
“I solemnly swear I’m up to no good,” he whispered, and the map unfurled in his hands.
Harry’s eyes fell to Malfoy’s name almost immediately.
He was headed to the owlery. Harry got there before him and waited.
Malfoy entered a few minutes later and went straight to his eagle owl, letter in hand. “Come, Athena,” he said, holding out his arm for her as a perch.
The owl dutifully flew to Malfoy and accepted a treat from his other hand. Harry watched as Malfoy attached an envelope to her leg and let her out the window.
Harry thought about revealing himself then before Malfoy could leave, but to his surprise, Malfoy just took out a pocket watch and waited.
Harry stood there with bated breath, trying to find the perfect moment to confront the other boy. He subtly moved to put himself between Malfoy and the door. Just as he was about to take off the cloak, the owl came swooping back through the window, the same letter still attached to her leg.
“Fuck!” Malfoy cursed, checking his watch. “Five minutes. That’s a new bloody record.” Harry watched in astonishment as Malfoy took the letter from his owl and burned it to cinders, letting the ash drop to the floor.
Harry scrambled to move out of the way as Malfoy made to exit. He quickly followed him down the corridor to the staircase, through a shortcut to the second floor.
When he got there, Malfoy looked around cautiously before entering the girls’ lavatory. That was Myrtle’s loo, Harry knew. Shame settled in Harry’s stomach at the memory of following Malfoy into this room in his own timeline. He resolved to do better this time.
With a deep breath, Harry entered the room into a familiar scene and removed his cloak.
Malfoy was leaning over the sink, hair mussed, knuckles white, breathing heavily.
Their eyes met in the mirror, fear and anger alight in Malfoy’s grey irises. That’s when Harry saw them.
“You have scars…” Harry whispered.
Malfoy whipped around to face Harry, his face streaked with tears and the top buttons of his shirt undone.
Harry stared at Malfoy’s chest and then back up at him.
“You have
scars,
” he said louder this time.
Malfoy’s eyes widened and he backed himself further into the sink.
“Listen, Potter…” he said, pulling his wand out from somewhere behind him.
But Harry wasn’t listening. He was charging towards Malfoy and before he knew it, the blond was wrapped in his arms, Harry’s sweater muffling the strangled sounds he was making.
The moment didn’t last.
Malfoy pushed him away with a scoff. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I told you, you’re delusional. There’s nothing between us.”
Harry couldn’t help the huge grin that lit up his face. Malfoy looked at him like he was deranged.
Fair enough, he was a bit, probably.
“Malfoy – I know.”
Malfoy still looked skeptical but relaxed his stance a bit.
“Well, good…” he started, but Harry went on.
“No, I know it’s
you.
Like, the real you. The you from…where I’m from…where the war is happening and this year already happened but different,” Harry was rambling now, overwhelmed with the surge of joy that came with meeting someone from his own timeline.
Even if it was Malfoy.
The idea didn’t seem to bring Malfoy the same amount of joy – but he did look marginally less like a scared wet cat ready to attack.
“Fucking hell, Potter. What are you doing here?”
“Me?” Harry said incredulously. “What are
you
doing here?” he countered.
“Oh fuck, Malfoy is this some nefarious plot to help Voldemort by going back in time so he can win, because listen, this timeline seems a lot less apocalyptic and if you ruin it for everyone by…”
“NO, Potter, shut up, Merlin’s balls. Would you give me a second?”
“Well, why are you here then?”
Malfoy sighed.
“I don’t know. I just wanted to be…not there. And the next thing I knew, I woke up in the Slytherin dorm with Blaise telling me it’s time for class.“
Harry was taken aback by their similar experiences.
“Me too.”
Malfoy let down his guard then, appraising Harry.
“How long?” They said at the same time, and Harry huffed out a laugh.
“Um…a couple of weeks?” Harry said. He wasn’t sure how time worked here, whether it was the same as back home.
Malfoy blinked. “I’ve been here a month.”
“Wait,” he added, narrowing his eyes. “If you’re not this world’s Potter, why have you been sending me flowery letters and trying to snog me in potions?” he asked meanly.
“I wasn’t trying to
snog
you, Malfoy! Everyone told me we were,” here Harry stopped to make a face. “…together. But you kept avoiding me and I wanted to know what was going on with you, you know…since…”
“Since I’m a death eater.”
“Well, yeah!” Harry said defensively.
“Who’s everyone?”
“What?” Harry asked, irritated at being goaded by Malfoy.
“You said
everyone
told you we were,” here Malfoy stopped to smirk and mimic Harry’s sour expression. “…together. So who’s everyone? Have you told people that you’re not…”
“Just Ron and Hermione,” Harry said. “It’s fine, they’re helping, and they won’t tell anyone else,” he added before Malfoy could bite his head off about not knowing the basic rules of time and interdimensional travel. The swot.
“Listen, I think we should work together. It’ll be quicker to get back if we share information.”
“What makes you think I want to go back?” Malfoy scoffed.
Harry gave him a look. “Um, how about the fact that you’re crying by yourself in the girls’ loo and burning letters?”
“How do you know about my lett–have you been following me?!” Malfoy screamed.
“Yes? I thought we established that. And I’m going to keep following you until you agree to work with me so we can get out of this mess. What do you say, Malfoy? Do you want a partner, or a stalker?” Harry offered him his hand.
Malfoy looked at it like it was covered in dirt, but to Harry’s relief he shook it. “Fine. We can work together.”
Harry let out a breath.
“Okay. So, where were you when you wished to get away?”
Malfoy looked at Harry distrustfully for a moment, then as though seeming to say fuck it, shrugged and offered an answer.
“I was outside the room of hidden things. Right after-after we escaped the fire. A door appeared and I opened it.”
“You what?” Harry interrupted. “Malfoy why the fuck would you go back in ther-”
“I didn’t!” Malfoy yelled rather shrilly.
He cleared his throat. “I didn’t go
back
in, I went into a different room entirely. The fire was gone, and as soon as I stepped inside it was like being in a dream. The next thing I remember is waking up in my bed.”
“Oh,” Harry said. “Well, what have you been doing since you got here?”
Malfoy scowled at him. “Avoiding you, mostly,” he said with his arms crossed.
Harry rolled his eyes. “So same old then? I meant with your life. What have you learned? Have you found a way to get back?”
“Obviously not, Potter or I wouldn’t still be here,” Malfoy said derisively.
Harry hummed, lost in thought. “What about the room of requirement? Maybe we can go back and-”
“Don’t you think I tried that? There doesn’t seem to be one here.”
“Well that’s just spectacular.” Harry exhaled, leaning against the sink next to Malfoy’s.
“Well how did you get here?” Malfoy asked.
“Through a magical train from the afterlife,” Harry said earnestly.
“Fine, don't tell me,” Malfoy said. Harry shrugged. “So what was up with that letter anyway?”
Malfoy sighed, all fight leaving him. “If you must know, it was a letter to my mother. She…I’ve been trying to reach her since I arrived and she’s been sending the letters back. It seems the Manor's unplottable – because now my owl can’t even find her for her to reject me.”
“She didn’t reject you, Malfoy.”
“What do you know about it?” Malfoy asked angrily.
“Well, I know she asked Sirius Black, who’s
my
godfather by the way, to take you in, you know to protect you from whatever death eater business your father’s undoubtedly involved in.”
The blond crumpled in on himself. “Yeah,” he said and Harry tried not to feel bad for the git.
“Um, speaking of Sirius,” he said awkwardly. “Apparently he’s coming to Hogsmeade this weekend, with my…well, with my parents.”
Malfoy cocked his head to the side, looking at Harry curiously. “That’s right. You’re not the chosen one here. It’s weird, seeing you without the,” he gestured to his forehead.
Harry chuckled. “Yeah, it’s been weird for me too. And I suppose you don’t…” he nodded to Malfoy’s left arm. Malfoy drew it in towards himself.
“So Sirius, your parents…what about them?” he asked.
Harry cleared his throat. “Well Ron and Hermione and I had sort of an idea…”
Harry briefly explained to Malfoy that they had some information that could prove that Harry wasn’t from this timeline, and that they planned to share it with his parents at the weekend. He didn’t tell him that the information was actually a person currently in the form of a rat, hidden under stasis in a trunk in Ron’s wardrobe, but he wasn’t sure that was entirely necessary to divulge.
“So your idea is to…tell more people?” Malfoy asked skeptically.
“Not just people. The ord..er, adults. Professors.”
“Right.”
“Why don’t you come over on Friday and we can talk, all four of us?”
“Come over?”
“The Gryffindor common room.”
Malfoy raised a brow. “Going to give a snake the password to the lion’s den, Potter?”
Harry grinned. “No need. I’ll know when you’re there.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The rest of the week went by uneventfully, and Harry found he felt lighter knowing he wasn’t alone in the universe. Well, this universe.
On Friday, he watched the map religiously, keeping an eye out for Malfoy. Around 10 pm, he saw him approach the portrait hole. Harry opened it before he could knock.
“Welcome,” he said.
“That’s creepy,” Malfoy replied, entering the common room and taking a judgemental look around.
Ron and Hermione were waiting for them by the fire, under a Muffliato.
“Hi Draco,” Hermione greeted him with a polite smile.
“No,
that’s
creepy,” Harry muttered.
“Granger, Weasley,” Malfoy nodded warily to them. He took the only available seat, next to Harry.
“So, Potter tells me you know…that you know.”
“Yeah, we know. About Harry…but how do we know you’re who you say you are…or that you’re even from the same timeline as him?” Ron questioned.
Hermione looked to Harry. “That’s a good point. How
did
you know he wasn’t from here, Harry?”
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck. “He had scars,” he mumbled.
“Scars? Oh, like yours that didn’t go away you mean? How do you know he didn’t have them here too?”
“Um…because I gave them to him.”
Harry wasn’t sure how much to share, given how uncomfortable Malfoy also looked.
After an awkward silence, Malfoy rolled his eyes and opened the top few buttons of his shirt. “They’re scars from an illegal unregistered curse that Potter used on me without knowing what it would do.” Seemingly for balance, he added, “If he hadn’t it’s entirely possible I would have crucio’d him.”
Harry winced. “I mean probably not though, you know, since you were crying alone in the girls’ lavatory…” he trailed off at Hermione’s horrified expression and at Malfoy’s glare.
Harry and Malfoy proceeded to answer questions from Ron and Hermione about events in their timeline, to make sure they matched. When they were satisfied, Harry prodded them to get on with the plan.
“This might be more difficult than we thought…” Hermione said, sharing an anxious look with Ron.
“What? What do you mean?” Harry asked. “How does this affect the plan? We needed a way to get rid of Malfoy, but now we don’t have to. He can help.”
“Get rid of me?”
“Yeah, the you from here,” he explained. “Nevermind it doesn’t matter. What’s the problem?”
“Well for starters, this one’s a death eater,” Ron said, gesturing to Malfoy.
Malfoy stiffened.
“We’ll need assurances that you won’t betray us,” Harry confirmed, turning towards him.
“I don’t know if assurances are enough…” Hermione piped in, biting her lip.
“What do you want? An unbreakable vow?” Malfoy scoffed.
“I mean…” Ron seemed to mull it over.
“Ron,” Harry warned. “We’re not going to force you into anything, Malfoy” he said firmly. The blond just continued to glare at him.
”Draco,” Harry sighed, risking a light touch to his left forearm. “You literally wished yourself into a different universe. A different life. Do you really want to go back to all that?”
Malfoy looked at Harry’s hand on his arm but said nothing.
“I know you recognized me at the manor,” Harry said, quieter. “We both know why you were crying in the loo. And I…I can’t tell you how but I’ve seen things, I know you lowered your wand on the astronomy tower. What seeing him torture people — being forced to torture people did to you.”
“You made a mistake, yeah,” Harry gave Malfoy’s arm a quick squeeze. “But you’re being given a chance to choose differently.”
Malfoy tore his arm away from Harry’s grasp and created some distance between them on the couch.
“I don’t need some sanctimonious speech, Potter,” he sneered. “Obviously, I did things I-I regret,” he said, giving Ron a quick glance. “But he had my parents,” Malfoy said, breathing heavily. “He
lived in my house.
It’s not as simple as just doing the right thing, I can’t just turn my back on my family-”
“I know,” Harry said. “I’m not asking you to. But for now, while we’re here, I need to know you won’t do anything to jeopardize this timeline, or run off and join the death eaters.”
“I won’t.” Malfoy conceded. “But I can’t make any promises beyond that.”
Harry nodded, looking back at his friends. They still didn’t seem convinced, but after a moment, they nodded back.
“Alright. Now I suppose we can let you in on the actual plan…” Harry said.
“Um about that,” Hermione interrupted. ”The whole not jeopardizing the timeline thing? I’m not sure how wise it is to tell anymore people about what’s going on here.”
“What?” Harry hissed. “Hermione, it was your idea to tell a professor! And now that we have Wormtail…”
“Wait, Wormtail is your proof?” Malfoy asked, incredulous.
“I know,” Hermione continued, ignoring Malfoy. “But I’ve been doing some reading and it seems in cases where wizards have claimed to be from different timelines, things didn’t end too well for them…Harry, in every instance the wizard disappeared without a trace. We can’t risk telling more people with all these unknowns. We don’t even know how much damage we’ve already caused just from you telling
us
.”
“How do you know this isn’t what’s supposed to happen?” Harry questioned, seething.
“I don’t. But without knowing for sure…You’re the one who’s used a timeturner, you know how dangerous that can be if done incorrectly,” she responded.
“When did you use a timeturner?” Malfoy asked. Harry continued on his tirade, ignoring the question. “So what do you propose we do instead?” he directed to his friends.
Hermione furrowed her brow and wrung her hands nervously. “You’re not going to like this but…I think we should let Pettigrew go.”
“Excuse me?” Harry said tightly. “You can’t be serious,” he tried, looking first at Hermione and then at Ron. T
heir twin expressions of guilt were answer enough.
“You’ve talked about this. You made up your minds about this already, without telling me,” Harry accused.
“He would have gotten away if we hadn’t interfered!” Hermione argued back, not denying the accusation.
“He only tried to get away because he heard me talking about the prophecy and Voldemort! We’ve already altered the timeline, Hermione,” Harry yelled in disbelief.
“We don’t know-”
“And now Malfoy’s here and we have no way of getting home, no plan. What about tomorrow? What do we tell my parents? Sirius?”
“Right, that’s the other thing,” Ron winced. “For now, we figure the best thing to do is keep up appearances…”
“What does that mean?” Malfoy asked warily. “Well?” Harry prodded when his friends said nothing.
“Look Harry, we didn't realize how…volatile your relationship to Draco was…” Hermione explained. ”But we were sort of hoping you two would keep up the couple act, just in public. It’s just, if we do —
when
we do find a way to send you back,” she amended, “presumably our Harry and Draco will come back too. And if we change things here while you two are…filling in for them, let’s say…I don’t know what that will mean for them when they’re back.” Harry could tell she was blinking back tears. Fuck.
He took a moment to process the absurd request.
“Absolutely not. I’ll take the unbreakable not to fuck things up any further but I’m
not
dating Potter,” Malfoy griped.
“That would probably be included in the unbreakable, mate,” Ron said helpfully.
Malfoy groaned. “You know what, deal’s off. You lot clearly don’t know…well, anything, apparently, so I say we go our separate ways and if one of us figures out a way out of here we can…”
“Whatever,” Harry rolled his eyes. “I’ll do it, if it means not imploding the universe,” he said standing up to go to bed, not quite sure if he meant it or if he was just being contrary.
“Well that makes one of us,” Malfoy retorted. Harry leveled a stare at him. “You promised. Literally like ten minutes ago, that you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize this timeline,” Harry reminded him.
“That was before I knew it involved snogging you!”
“Homophobic much, Malfoy?” Harry snorted.
“I’m not that self-loathing, Potter.”
Harry raised his brows, taking in that information. “Right. So it’s just me you have a problem with.”
“Ten points to Gryffindor,” Malfoy drawled.
“Meet us in the Great Hall tomorrow morning. We leave at 10,” Harry replied without a backward glance.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
To Harry’s complete and utter lack of surprise, Malfoy did not show up at 10 am the next day. When Harry finally tracked him down, he was on the seventh floor, angrily kicking a patch of wall. “Um…is he okay?” Ron asked, sharing a look with Hermione. Harry sighed. “Let me handle this.” Five minutes and a short shouting match later, Harry pulled a cantankerous Malfoy over to his friends. “Is everything-” “Everything’s fine, Hermione. Isn’t it Malfoy?” Harry glared. He got a scowl in return. “Right! Let’s go.” The walk to the village was tense, with Malfoy refusing to engage in conversation. That was fine with Harry, who had other things on his mind. Primarily, the overwhelming thought of seeing Sirius again. And his parents. His actual, alive parents. He had no idea how to feel. When they approached the shops, Hermione stopped them. “What now?” Malfoy griped.“Listen, if we’re going to pull this off, then we need some ground rules,” she said, face hard.“Rules?” Harry asked. “One,” she started, counting them off on her fingers. “While you’re in public, you will address each other as Harry and Draco. Two, when appropriate, you will be…affectionate towards each other.” Harry made a face and looked at Malfoy, who made an equally disgusted face back. “What does ‘affectionate’ mean exactly?” Harry asked. “Just, you know, hold hands, hug each other, whatever comes naturally…” she trailed off at Malfoy’s snort. “Something funny?” Harry glared. “Is something…” Malfoy did laugh then, a loud, deranged sound. “Whatever comes naturally? Did you forget our little bedtime story yesterday or shall I show you my scars again?” He asked Hermione meanly. She winced. “Er, right. So maybe the opposite of what comes naturally then.”“This is never going to work,” Malfoy grumbled. “It was a mad idea.”“Oi!” Ron shouted, getting the group’s attention. “I see professor Lupin making his way down here so we have about 20 seconds to make a decision. Are we doing this? Harry, Malfoy?” Harry looked at Malfoy again and sighed heavily. “Yes. Yeah, fine. I will.”Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Well since it seems I don’t have a choice,” he shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. Harry noticed for the first time that it was a black leather jacket and felt a pang at the realization that Sirius must have given it to him. Harry cleared his throat. “Come on then,” he said, making his way down the hill. “Harry!” He turned to find Lupin catching up with the group. “Remus,” he smiled, still not used to seeing him, even after attending a couple defense classes. “Sirius and your parents should be at the Hog’s Head by now. Shall we meet them together?”The walk to the pub was short, and Harry pushed open the doors in trepidation. He stepped inside, seeking out his parents in the dim lighting. The place was empty as usual, but looked less grim than Harry remembered. “Draco! Harry!” They turned to see Sirius Black, strong and tall, ushering them over with a smile from a table near the back. Harry felt stuck to the floor. He completely underestimated just how unprepared he was to see a living, breathing, smiling, Sirius. He took in his godfather’s features, healthier than he’d ever looked when Harry knew him, and swallowed a lump in his throat. “Potter, what are you doing, move!” Malfoy whispered, nudging him in the side. Harry felt grounded by the touch, even if it did come from Malfoy (Draco, he mentally corrected), and slowly made his way to the table.“Sirius,” he grinned, when his godfather pulled him into a hug. “Sirius? What are we, chopped liver?” A man called from behind him and Harry turned, coming face to face with James. “Dad,” Harry breathed. “In the flesh,” James joked, stepping up to Harry and ruffling his hair. Harry just stood, staring. “Everything alright, son?” James inquired, looking concerned. He turned to Draco with a frown. “Did something happen?” “No,” Draco said. “He’s just,” Draco eyed Harry. “Hungry.” “Yes, good idea. We should probably order – don’t want the Puddlemere captain on me about starving his next star,” James steered the boys to the table and sat them down in chairs between Sirius and Lily, with Ron and Hermione seated across from them and James taking his seat beside Lily in the corner. “Harry,” she greeted him with a warm hug. “We’ve missed you, love. How are you? What are you feeling for lunch?” Harry looked into his mother’s face and took it all in from her dazzling smile to her fiery red hair. Everyone was right, he thought. I do have her eyes.To his relief, Hermione and Ron quickly pulled his parents into conversation, giving Harry time to recover from his shock. From the corner of his eye, he saw Sirius and Remus head to the bar for drinks. Draco meanwhile, pulled up a menu, hiding himself from view. It didn’t last. “Alright there, cousin?” Sirius knocked on the table in front of Draco’s menu, startling the blond. He looked up at Sirius, offering him a polite nod and a “yes, thanks,” and was met with a confused stare. Harry groaned inwardly. If they kept this up, they’d be discovered in a heartbeat. Pulling from whatever stores of Gryffindor courage he had left, Harry put on a brave face and grinned at Sirius. “How’s the bike?” he asked, taking a shot in the dark. “Oh, it’s great,” Sirius answered. “And no you still cannot ride it.” “You got Draco the jacket,” Harry argued, relieved he found something to talk about. “No, Draco got Draco the jacket. All he got from me is good taste,” Sirius boasted. “Hardly,” Draco scoffed, and for the first time in his life Harry was grateful for the prat’s inability to hold his judgement. If they could manage a conversation through lunch, they might just pull this off. “You wound me. See what happens next time you ask to borrow the bike,” Sirius replied in mock anger. “Wait, since when does he get to borrow the bike?” Harry asked, swallowing the envy at the thought that this is what life with Sirius might have been. “Since he got his license,” Sirius said, raising his eyebrows at Draco. “Tsk tsk, keeping secrets from each other now?” “It was meant to be a surprise” Draco drawled. “Thanks a lot.” “I’ll still act surprised, don’t worry,” Harry improvised, offering Draco what he hoped came off as a fond smile and not indigestion. He put his arm over the blond’s shoulder for good measure. To his credit, Draco didn’t even flinch. “Thank you,” he said, patting Harry’s hand awkwardly. “If you’re done being gross,” Ron wrinkled his nose. “Can we order?” The rest of lunch went on in a similar manner, Harry’s parents inquiring about school and quidditch and Draco avoiding eye contact with everyone in favour of pushing around the peas on his plate. After lunch, Lupin returned to the castle, while Ron left to meet Lavender. Hermione made a valiant attempt to look like she didn’t care. Harry put his arm around her in a tight squeeze. “Alright?” She nodded, smiling at him gratefully. “Careful, cousin,” Sirius stage-whispered to Malfoy. “Looks like you have some competition.” “Hm?” Malfoy looked up with a bored expression, taking in the sight of Harry and Hermione. “Oh. Right. Away you saucy minx,” he drawled with a lazy wave of his hand, like a king dismissing a subject. Harry couldn’t help his laugh. The sound seemed to startle Malfoy out of his ennui and he narrowed his eyes at Harry. “Don’t worry, Draco, you’re still number one in my heart,” Harry joked. “I’m flattered,” the blond snorted.The group spent the rest of the afternoon strolling through Hogsmeade, stopping here and there to make purchases. Harry committed every detail to memory. His father’s laugh, his mother’s affectionate eyerolls, the permanent gleam in Sirius’s eye. By the end of the evening, Harry’s parents had bought him new robes, a trunk load of sweets, enough parchment and ink to last him a lifetime (“so you don’t have an excuse not to write!” his mother teased) and a new wind up alarm clock, spelled to be as annoying as possible, courtesy of Sirius. “It’s really a gift for Ron,” he smirked. “Now he won’t have to be the one to wake you up every day.” “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it,” Harry laughed. Before saying goodbye, James pulled him aside. “I’ve got something else for you,” he said conspiratorially, tossing him a shrunken package in the shape of a broom. Harry caught it in surprise. “But I already have a broom,” he said dumbstruck. James grinned. “And now you have two. Don't think I didn’t see you salivating over it all summer,” he said with a wink. At sunset his parents apparated home with a kiss to his head and promises to see him before Christmas.Before following suit, Sirius clapped Harry on the shoulder and mussed up Draco’s hair, eliciting a displeased squawk. With a huff, Draco marched over to Hermione to start the trek back to the castle. “Yeah, love you too mate,” Sirius called after him. Harry turned to follow but Sirius held him back, clearing his throat. “Everything okay?” Harry asked, concerned. “Yeah, yeah nothing to worry about…it’s just…is something the matter with Draco? He seems… odder than usual,” Sirius said with a frown. Whatever Harry expected his godfather to say, it wasn’t that. “Oh,” Harry blinked. “Yeah, no, he’s great. Very um, Draco-ish.” Harry saw worry flash across Sirius’s face before he pasted on a smile. “Alright. Just, look out for him, yeah? And let me know if there’s anything…anything I can do.”“What do you mean?” Sirius sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Narcissa got in touch with me. She said he’s been trying to reach her.”“Oh,” Harry said, unsure of what to say. Sirius misinterpreted the reaction. “Not that he shouldn’t speak to his mother! But you know how she is…and with everything still so tense…” “Right,” Harry said, hiding his confusion. “I’ll…I’ll take care of him.”Sirius gave him a genuine smile, then. “Good. Thank you, Harry,” he squeezed his shoulder affectionately.“And you take care of you too, yeah?”Harry nodded. With another quick smile, Sirius was gone.