Harry Potter and the Quantum LeapBy: Seel'vor Harry Potter won the Second Blood War and defeated his enemies... and was left with nothing. Decades later, he contributes to the creation of a revolutionary new piece of technology and destroys the future in order to rewrite his own past...Rated: Fiction M - English - Adventure/Romance - Harry P., Hermione G. - Chapters: 42 - Words: 274,521 - Reviews: 5,326 - Favs: 9,693 - Follows: 9,598 - Updated: Oct 28, 2010 - Published: Dec 17, 2007 - id: 3951749
Chapter 1: Introduction
A brief introduction to my new story:
Disclaimer: Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copywrited 2008 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.
Harry Potter is the © property of:
JK Rowling, 1997
Bloomsbury Books, 1997
Warner Bros. 2001
Quantum Leap is owned by Donald Bellisario. However, this is not really used in the story, just in the initial chapter for Harry's journey back.
Timeline is owned by Michael Crichton. Again, this is just touched upon in Harry's travel back to the past.
CHAPTER ONE –
The Leap Back
The war had ended. Harry, and the shattered remnants of the Order of the Phoenix had won; driven back the darkness... for now. It would come again. It always did. He was one of the few that could stand against it.
For several decades, he watched and waited, looking for the signs that would indicate a new Dark Lord rising. It seemed, though, that the legend of the 'Chosen One' was still active. It had been over half a century since the final battle, but he'd become more and more disillusioned with life.
He'd been prepared to end it, ever since his wife was brutally murdered during the last battle. It was, ironically, her death that signalled the end of the darkness. Then, something changed.
A man was born. He was a Muggle, limited in power, but unmatched in brains. Even his wife would not have been able to match Sam's raw intellectual power. When the proposal first made it's way across his desk, he glanced it over, before tossing it to one side.
Weeks passed, and the document never strayed far from his mind. He'd go to bed, thinking about the fascinating technology that was being speculated. He'd wake up, dreaming that the project would be a success, and he'd be able to see her again.
When he returned to his office, he reread the proposal, deciding that the Marauder Foundation would be able to fund the project. His long life, now nudging up past a century, had given him stupendous wealth, thanks to the tricky little goblins.
It took five years. Five years for the project to get to initial test stage. In a freezing cold cavern underneath the New Mexico desert, a room was constructed. The components cost millions of Galleons, but they were worth it. The project's construction, when completed, would allow the use of temporal quantum technology to view the past.
Strict rules had been created about the project. It was for observation only. Using neurological scanning and quantum projection technology, it would be possible to observe the past, without making any changes to the time-line.
That was the greatest fear of the project. If someone were to manipulate the time-line, it could destroy everything that had been worked for. A series of protocols had been put in place the ensure that only the most trustworthy people would be able to even know about the project, let alone enter the site.
He was one of those people. As the principal source of funds, he had carte blanch to enter the project, but not use the equipment.
Of course, He was a wizard, and the laws of Muggles meant little to him anymore. He would enter the project, and be the first to use the Accelerator. If they tried to stop him? Well... there were reasons that the darkness were afraid of him.
He entered the Project's Accelerator Chamber, cane in hand. The injuries he'd sustained during the war had never really healed, even after a century of the best medical assistance both the Muggle and magical worlds could offer him. That would change, though, once his journey was complete.
The physical properties of breaking the quantum boundary, or 'stepping into the world', but heavily speculated, but no-one knew for sure. The primary theory was that the time traveller would take the form of their past self, time herself obliterating the original copy, and using the Quantum fields generated to regenerate the traveller.
At least... he hoped so.
Now... he thought to himself, wrapping his cloak tight around his ancient body, Now, I have a chance to change everything. I will make the journey, and things will go right.
He stepped into the central circle of the Accelerator, jabbing his cane onto the ground. The concealed magical cores accessed the device, setting up a powerful Protego shield, that nothing would be able to penetrate.
A series of nuclear reactors started up, channelling their immense power into a series of capacitors, which would be used to start the antimatter reaction chamber, located directly below the Accelerator room. The onset of Antimatter technology was a closely guarded secret by the Marauder Foundation, only to be used by the most honest and trustworthy people.
In the centre of the Accelerator, a series of blue lightning bolts started to arc through the air. The power was considerable, but nothing compared to what was to come.
In the background, he could hear the technicians and researchers bleating in fear.
"What's happening?"
"Who's that?"
"The Accelerator's active!"
"He's leaping!"
The last shout was the one that gathered the attention of everyone there. The project was still in the initial test phase.
"He can't leap yet! We're not ready!" The voice of the Admiral, the project's administrator and principal observer cut through the cacophony of sound. "Shut it down! Shut it all down!"
The technicians tried to comply with his demands, but it didn't matter. The reaction had become self-sustaining, feeding on the pure power from the antimatter reactor, with a healthy boost of Harry's own magic.
"He'll destroy everything!" A final voice shouted. And it was true. He would. But none of that mattered. When the leap was complete, it would all be gone anyway.
The landscape around him was changing. Instead of seeing the cool, smooth metal walls of the Accelerator chamber, he could see battered stone walls, small holes giving the impression of a draughty room. In front of him, he could see a battered couch, the outline of a fat sleeping child on it. With a grin, Harry stepped forward, in essence stepping across time. As he passed through, the project disappeared from the time-stream, never having existed.
Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Man-Who-Won, the Chosen One had made his Quantum Leap.
CHAPTER TWO –
The Arrival
Inside a ragged Hut on the Rock, a blaze of blue light erupted into the draughty living room. Inside the room, two young children were sleeping. One of them, roughly the size of a manatee, was dead to the word, and probably wouldn't notice a herd of hippogriffs bouncing on his butt. The other child, small, messy-haired, and far too thin, had fallen asleep a few hours ago. He'd been planning to stay up and wait for his birthday, but got bored of listening to Dudley's snores.
The light streaked out, searching for something similar. When it encountered the small boy, it scanned his DNA, before vaporising the body, never to be seen again.
Harry stepped forward, dropping to his knees in agony as his DNA was over-written with the newly acquired sample. His body, damaged and over a century old, reformed into an identical copy of the recently vaporised boy, before allowing him to slump to the floor.
"Okay..." He gasped through the pain. "That hurt." Taking stock of his situation, he glanced around, noticing the fat-arse sitting on the couch, and hearing the chainsaw massacre from the top of the stairs, that could only be Vernon Dursley. "Well, I'm back."
He glanced over at Dudley's watch, noting the time: 11:58pm.
In two minutes, everything changes. He could barely contain himself. Soon, he'd be seeing the woman he loved beyond life itself, and in a month, he'd be returning to the only place he could consider home.
A resounding 'crack' echoed throughout the hut, waking the chainsaw massacre upstairs, and the manatee to his left. Harry sat up, grabbing his glasses, and slipping them onto his nose.
Note to self: get contacts as soon as possible. He thought idly, while watching the door rock again on it's hinges. With a final 'thump', the door fell inwards, revealing what could accurately be described as a mountain of a man, wielding a pink umbrella.
He stepped into the draughty Hut, and took a look around, noting the two adults perching on the stairs, one of them armed with some kind of Muggle weapon.
"Sorry about that." The giant began, bending over to pick up the door. He lifted it and placed it back into the door frame.
"I demand that you leave at once, sir!" Vernon hissed through clenched teeth. "You are breaking and entering, sir!" He raised the shotgun threateningly at Hagrid.
Hagrid stomped over, and bent the barrel of the shotgun. "Oh, dry up, Dursley, you great prune!" As soon as he released the barrel, the weapon discharged, blowing a hole into the ceiling. Hagrid turned to face the only boy he could see in the room.
"Well, I haven't seen you since you was a baby, Harry, but you're further along than I thought." He patted his stomach. "Particularly around the middle."
Dudley, terrified out of his mind, took a step back. "I-I'm not Harry." He stammered.
Harry took this moment to step out from besides the fireplace. "I am."
Hagrid looked over and grinned. "Well, of course you are!" He held out a hand, which Harry shook. Hagrid flopped onto the battered couch, pointing his wand at the fireplace. Tiny balls of flames erupted from the wand, filling the damp hut with warm air. He reached into his pockets, and began pulling out a motley assortment of items.
Harry took the poker, sausages and tea from Hagrid, and started to cook the meal.
"How'd you know how to do that?" Hagrid asked after a moment.
Harry gestured with his thumb at the Dursleys behind him. "I've been cooking for them since I was three years old." He replied simply, turning the sausages to make sure they wouldn't burn.
"Since you were three?" Hagrid asked. "Didn't know you liked cooking."
Harry shrugged, turning the sausages again. "Doesn't matter if I like cooking or not. These bastards," Harry again gestured at the Dursleys, "make me cook, clean and garden for them." He thought for a moment. "They're useful skills to have, really."
As expected, Hagrid heaved himself to his feet. "What?" He roared. "Make you work for 'em like a House Elf?"
Harry pulled the sausages from the flames. "What's a house elf?" He asked innocently.
Hagrid flopped down onto the battered couch, which groaned in submission. "That don't matter at the moment, Harry." He reached into his pocket. "Here, give me them sausages." He passed over the letter. "I reckon you should be reading that now."
Harry took the letter, opened it, and started to read. He quickly skimmed through the message, before looking up at Hagrid. "Is this a joke?"
"Blimey, Harry," Hagrid began, "didn't you wonder where your parents learnt it all? Haven't you ever made something happen? When you were frightened... or angry?" He looked at Harry's sheepish nod. "You're a wizard, Harry. And you'll be attending the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world!"
"He'll not be going!" Vernon hissed, obviously annoyed at being ignored by the two magical beings. "He'll be going to Stonewall High, and he'll be grateful for it!"
Hagrid stood again. Harry swore he could hear the couch sigh in relief, as Hagrid made his way in front of Vernon. "I suppose a great Muggle like yourself's gonna stop him."
"I hate that word." Harry muttered to himself.
"He'll be at the finest school for wizardry in the world! Seven years there, and he won't know himself! And... he'll be under the finest Headmaster Hogwarts has ever known! Albus... Dumbledore."
"I'll not pay for some crackpot old fool to teach him magic tricks!" Vernon ranted, only to be stopped when Hagrid's pink umbrella appeared under his nose.
"Never. Insult. Albus. Dumbledore. In front of me." Hagrid said slowly, before looking over at Dudley. He waved the umbrella, and a pig's tail erupted from Dudley's pyjamas. Harry quickly used a bit of wandless magic to complete the transformation, turning Dudley into a pig.
Hagrid looked at his umbrella with shock, before quickly jabbing it back into his coat. He leaned in close to Harry. "I'd... uh... I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention that to anyone at Hogwarts. Strictly speaking, I'm not allowed to do magic."
Harry nodded, and grabbed his shirt from the hook by the fireplace. Hagrid pulled the door off the hinges again, before stomping through. "Are you coming? Unless you'd rather stay, of course?" Hagrid had a cheeky grin.
The two headed into London, where they quickly took the tube to Charing Cross Road. On the way, Harry re-read his first Hogwarts letter, while Hagrid knitted... something big and yellow.
"Hagrid? Can we really get all this stuff in London?"
Hagrid nodded, and leaned close to Harry. "If you know where to go, Harry." He said, before straightening, and counting his stitches.
When the two got off the tube, Harry followed the giant down Charring Cross Road, until they stopped beneath a grubby pub billboard, showing the place to be the 'Leaky Cauldron'. Harry smiled as the door was opened, and the sounds and smells of the pub washed over him. He was truly back in the Wizarding world now.
He stepped into the pub, hiding behind Hagrid.
After Tom shouted over to Hagrid, who identified the reason he was there as Harry, the young wizard was swamped with 'well-wishers', read: 'busybodies', who were each trying to get a piece of him. Harry was debating either apparating away, or starting to hex people. In the end, Hagrid solved the dilemma by pulling him close, and forcing his way through the crowd.
When Hagrid introduce Harry to Professor Quirrell, Harry could see the tendrils of Black Magic that surrounded him, as well as feel the Legilimency attempt from the parasitic Voldemort on the back of his head. He tightened his Occlumency defences, before following Hagrid out of the pub.
Hagrid tried to hide his grin on his face when he saw Harry come alive at his first glimpse of Diagon Alley. The sights, the sounds, the smells of ordinary witches and wizards living their lives filled Harry's little face with joy.
"Welcome, Harry, to Diagon Alley." He led the way to Gringotts, pointing out the sign. "Mad to steal from the Goblins, Harry. Now, stick with me when we get inside. Goblins are clever beasties, smart as they come, but they ain't too friendly."
Hagrid stopped in front of the teller, who sneered down at them. "Yes?" He asked testily.
Hagrid stood up straight, putting his height at over nine feet, and peered down at the goblin. "Mr. Harry Potter would like to make a withdrawal."
The goblin grasped the edge of the desk, and pulled himself forward, staring at Harry, who looked back fearlessly. "And does Mr. Harry Potter... have his key?"
Hagrid thought for a moment. "Oh, no, I have that." He started digging into his pockets, placing the random contents on the teller's desk, who's nose wrinkled in disgust at the more bizarre items that appeared, until Hagrid cried out in joy. "There's the little devil!" He handed the key over to the goblin, who took it, before appearing to relax slightly.
"This appears to be in order." He raised his hand and clicked his fingers, summoning one of the Goblins near the back of the lobby. "Griphook will take you to the vault."
"Also, I've got a letter hear from Professor Dumbledore. It's about the you-know-what in vault you-know-which."
The goblin looked startled for a moment, before straightening up. "Very well."
The cart ride was still as exhilarating as ever, causing Harry to let out a yell of glee as they sped through the vast caverns. All too soon, they slowed down, making Harry moan in disappointment.
"Vault 687." Harry got up out of the cart, following Griphook, who took the key and opened the vault. Harry stepped inside, idly noting that the vault was filled with a large amount of gold, silver and bronze. He scooped up a lot of the gold, dropping it into a small sack he found near the entry way. He wasn't particularly worried about running out, since he knew that this was just his trust vault, and the main Potter fortune was vast.
He ambled back into the cart, waiting for them to be taken to the next vault.
They shortly arrived at vault 711, where Hagrid reached in and took out a tiny grubby package, which he placed in one of the many pockets in his coat. "Best not to mention this to anyone at Hogwarts, all right?" He asked. Harry nodded.
Hagrid climbed back into the cart, and they sped off. On their way back to the surface, Harry leaned back and whispered to Griphook. "I know you said 'one speed only'. Is that true?" He asked, grinning at the Goblin.
Griphook said nothing, just grasped a lever. The cart doubled in speed, prompting Harry to bellow in joy, and Hagrid to moan in fear.
CHAPTER THREE –
Lord Potter?
They left the bank, Hagrid a frighteningly pale shade of white and trembling, while Harry's cheeks were pink from the rapid velocity of the cart. "That was fun, Hagrid! Can we do it again?"
Hagrid turned green, and took a few deep breaths. "I don't think so, Harry." He said after a moment. "I'm gonna go and get a pick me up in the Cauldron. Will you be all right for the next half-hour or so?"
Harry just grinned and nodded, before setting off for Traveller's Trunks.
Inside the shop, Harry was presented with the smell of sawdust and varnish. He breathed deeply, before taking a stroll round the trunks, looking to see what was available.
An older man appeared behind Harry, looking him over with a critical eye. He fought the urge to simply throw the boy out. Based on his appearance, he wouldn't be buying anything expensive.
Harry had sensed the man approach, and turned to face him. "Good morning, sir." He said politely.
"What do you want, boy?" The man snapped, annoyed at wasting his time.
Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I'll have a Ham and Cheese sandwich, please." He said, biting down several nasty retorts.
"Don't sell sandwiches, boy." The man spat out, looking disgusted.
"I know." Harry replied testily. "Obviously," He drawled, "I want a trunk. That's why I came into a trunk shop."
"You sure you can afford one of my trunks, boy?" The man asked.
Not bothering to answer verbally, since the phrase 'money talks' works as well in the Wizarding world as the Muggle world, Harry pulled out the sack of Galleons he'd picked up in Gringotts. Instantly, the man changed, going from grumpy to smarmy in a nanosecond.
"Of course, sir." The man smarmed. "My apologies for my previous behaviour. I'm Cyril Agamemnon."
"Save it." Harry snapped. "I'm looking for a suitable trunk. I'll shortly be attending Hogwarts. I want something that'll last my entire time there."
"All of my trunks are durable, sir." Cyril replied, looking a bit offended. "If you take care of them, there's no reason it won't last the rest of your life."
Harry looked down his nose at the man. "I'm sure." He gestured to the larger, more expensive trunks. "I'm looking for something a little better than the standard school models."
"Of course, sir." Cyril smarmed again. For a moment, Harry was convinced he was going to start rubbing his hands together. It creeped him out a little bit.
"I want something with multiple compartments," Harry said firmly. "I want it to have a wardrobe section for my clothing, a library section, holding possibly thousands of books. A section for Quidditch equipment and a broomstick, and another section for holding a vast array of potions equipment and supplies." He stared imperiously at the creepy little man. "Can you supply such a thing?"
Cyril nodded, before leading Harry to the ugliest trunk he'd ever seen. It looked like it was made of cheap plastic, and would fall apart if someone coughed on it.
"Are you deliberately wasting my time, Mr. Agamemnon?" Harry asked. "I want quality, not the junk you pawn to the masses."
Harry rolled his eyes and walked away, looking at the more expensive trunks. He found a nice cherry-wood 5-section trunk, tucked away at the back. He pulled it out, glancing quickly at it. "I'll take this one."
"Sir, that's fifty Galleons." Agamemnon said. "It's one of my more expensive trunks." (A/N: See introduction for currency conversion)
Harry reached into his sack, and counted out fifty of the heavy gold coins. He slapped them onto the counter. "What extra features do you offer?" Harry asked.
"The standard, sir." Agamemnon said, quickly scooping up the gold. "Full security system, keyed to your personal magical signature. Wards against theft, fire, water. The usual."
"How much?" Harry asked, reaching into his sack.
"Five Galleons." Agamemnon said, wondering how far he could push the young gentleman.
"Two." Harry replied instantly, drawing out the coins.
Agamemnon grumbled to himself. "Fine." He waved his wand, quickly casting the charms.
The rest of Harry's time in Diagon Alley passed, as he purchased new clothing, all his necessary potions equipment, which required going into the smelly Apothecary and erupting ten minutes later to a colossal sneezing fit, and a new broomstick from Quality Quidditch. He'd have to sneak it into the school, but he wasn't worried.
All that was left was his wand and pet. He was hoping Hagrid was in a generous mood, and would reunite him with his familiar.
As he left Madam Malkins, fortunately avoiding Malfoy, Pompous little git! Harry made his way to Ollivander's. This was another 'friend' he was looking forward to seeing.
His visit went exactly the same as during the original time-line, including Ollivander's creepy outlook on life, as his prediction of 'great things' from Harry. Frankly, he couldn't get the hell out of there fast enough.
As he was walking out, Harry looked up to see the giant form of Hagrid shambling closer, obviously recovered from the ordeal of the Gringotts carts. In his hands he held an owl cage, containing a beautiful snowy-white owl.
Hedwig! Harry screamed mentally. The owl looked up, her eyes widening when she saw Harry. He could feel the bond of a familiar beginning, as Hedwig aligned herself to Harry.
"Happy Birthday, Harry." Hagrid said, looking down on his small charge, and feeling a rush of warmth when Harry looked up at him with tears in his eyes.
"Thank you." He whispered, the sentiment echoed in his thoughts by Hedwig.
"Well, that's everything, Harry." Hagrid said, pulling out a pocket-watch. "I'd best be getting you back to your relatives' house."
Harry took the cage from Hagrid, cooing softly at Hedwig. "That's okay, Hagrid." He looked up. "I know you need to get back to Hogwarts to drop off that package. I can take the train back."
Hagrid looked down at the watch again, and then back at Harry. "You're sure?" He asked, uncertain about leaving his charge alone in the Alley.
"I'll be fine." Harry replied, eager to get rid of Hagrid for one final piece of business in the Alley.
Hagrid nodded, then pulled out his umbrella and Disapparated.
Harry turned back towards Gringotts, and started to scurry down the Alley. "Now... for the last order of the day..."
Harry re-entered Gringotts, and headed straight for Griphook. "Ah, Griphook. Do you have a few moments?"
Griphook nodded slowly. "I do, Mr. Potter." He replied formally. "Does this require a private meeting?"
Harry nodded. "I think it should, sir." He said respectfully. Griphook simply nodded, and led Harry to a conference room.
As the two were settled, with the obligatory offer of tea and biscuits, Harry leaned back. "Griphook, I would like to talk about my family."
Griphook's eyebrows shot up. "What, specifically, would you like to talk about?"
Harry leaned forward, keeping his hands in his lap and his teeth concealed. "As I understand it, since I'm the last Potter, scion of an Ancient and Noble house, I am able to claim emancipation and House Lordship at age eleven. Is this correct?"
Griphook discretely jabbed a button on the underside of the desk, while nodding. "Yes. It has happened in rare occasions in the past, Mr. Potter." He said, not wanting to commit to anything.
"I also know that I'm the last of Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw's line. As such, I am considered an Heir of Hogwarts." Harry said, feeling the approach of another goblin, this one with far more power than Griphook.
The door opened, to Griphook's relief, as an elder goblin walked in. Even though he was a goblin, Harry was very jealous of his suit. It looked superb! He shook his head.
"Mr. Potter." The elder goblin spoke with a voice like gravel. "I am Director Ragnok, Manager of this bank."
Harry stood and bowed deeply. "Good day, Director. Please, call me Harry."
Both goblins were taken aback by the blatant display of respect from a wizard to a goblin. Something that hadn't happened in... decades, at least.
"Thank you, Harry." Ragnok said, waving Harry back to his chair. "I'm honoured by your gesture. How can we help you today?"
Harry took a deep breath. "As I was asking Griphook, I understand that the last scion of an Ancient and Noble House can claim emancipation and Lordship over their House at age eleven. Since today is my eleventh birthday, I would like to claim my Lordship over House Potter today."
Ragnok leaned forward, intrigued by the young Lord. "It is possible, Harry. However, it's not been done for centuries. Your Ministry frowns on emancipated minors."
Harry nodded. "I understand that. However, the Potter Family has been bereft of Lordship for a decade. It's time that I took up the mantle."
Griphook glanced at Ragnok, nodding slightly.
"Are you also aware of your family's roots, Harry?" Ragnok asked, propping his hand in his chin.
"I am aware that the Potter family are the last descendants of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, making me a Founders' Heir, and the so-called 'Heir of Hogwarts'." Harry replied. "However, I don't particularly want these facts to be known."
Ragnok leaned back, looking over Harry critically. "Then why are you asking for this?"
"Because I want the emancipation." Harry said. "I want to escape from my relatives. They're not the nicest people in the world, and my freedom would be beneficial." He cocked his head, smiling. "Plus, the whole removal from the 'Restriction of Underage Magic' would be nice, too."
Ragnok clicked his fingers twice, summoning several scrolls of parchment. "This is a complete list of your holdings. With regards to your Trust Vault..."
Harry picked up the first scroll. "Everything should go into the Potter Family Vault, and I'll use that." Harry said, looking through the list of properties. He found what he was looking for.
"I'd also like to have my official residence moved here."
CHAPTER FOUR –
Hermione
The next few days were the best of Harry's life to date. He'd moved into the flat above the vacant shop at 93 Diagon Alley. He'd quickly set up a nice home, purchasing furniture and supplies.
However, the incident he was truly waiting for happened on the 5th of August. Hermione Granger, the love of his life, had entered Diagon Alley.
Watching from the windows of his now Fidelus-charmed flat, he saw her enter the Alley, heading straight for Flourish and Blotts. Harry quickly grabbed his jacket and shoes, and rushed out.
As he entered the bookshop, he quickly glanced around, looking for the little girl who would become the woman he loved so much.
She was in the History section, and Harry had to bite down a laugh as she picked up her first ever copy of Hogwarts; A History. He approached her, smiling politely.
"Hello."
Hermione looked up to see a boy, about her age, with the dreamiest green eyes she'd ever seen, looking back at her. "Hello." She replied.
"My name's Harry." He said, holding out his hand.
"Charmed." Hermione said, grasping his hand lightly, pumping once, then releasing it. "I'm Hermione."
"You going to Hogwarts?" Harry asked, gesturing at the heavy tome in her hands.
"Yes." She replied softly. "I'm going to be a first-year."
Harry nodded. "Me, too." He cocked his head slightly. "Looking forward to it?"
Hermione nodded slowly. "Yes. It's a bit of a relief, really."
"I know what you mean." Harry said. "All those weird little things that kept happening. At least now, we know why."
She nodded. "Yes." Hermione turned slightly, looking back at the bookshelves.
Harry ignored the snub, going over to one of the shelves he knew most decent people avoided like the plague, and picked up a slim volume. He headed over to the checkout, paid for it, and headed back to her.
He passed her the book, watching her scowl as she read the title. She looked up at him with a death glare he'd come to recognise. "Mudbloods and Purebloods?" She asked. "Why on earth would I want to read this?"
Harry repressed the smirk on his face. "I've already paid for it. I suggest you read it, Hermione. It's... enlightening."
Harry turned, and left the store, ignoring the daggers she was trying to jab into his back from her eyes.
The remainder of August flew by, as Harry devoured his textbooks, learning all he could. He'd gone back to Ollivander's to have the tracking charm on his wand removed, and tore through the first-year curriculum in record time. Of course, he'd long since past this level of education, or even the need for a wand, but it was good to get back into the form he needed.
September 1st rolled round, and Harry rushed to Kings Cross, his trunk shrunk down into his pocket, with Hedwig making her way there on her own.
Harry opened the compartment, and swallowed down the cry of glee at having found her. She looked up, and her eyes narrowed.
"Do you mind if I join you?" He asked politely.
Hermione, never one to be rude, acquiesced, allowing Harry to throw his trunk up onto the roof rack, and sat down opposite her. For a moment, neither one of them said anything, just engaged in a furious staring competition.
"So..." Harry broke away first. "Did you read the book I gave you?"
"Yes." Hermione's response was frosty, lowering the temperature in the compartment by ten degrees.
"And?" Harry asked.
"I think it's a load of biased old rubbish." She replied simply. "And, to tell you the truth, I'm quite offended that you gave it to me."
Before Harry could offer his retort, the door opened, revealing a pale-skinned blonde, with two small gorillas behind him. His tone, when he spoke, was filled with arrogance. "I've heard that Harry Potter's on the train."
Harry looked up. "I've heard the same thing." He said. "Why are you looking for him?"
Malfoy looked down his nose. "That's none of your concern." He gazed up at Harry's hairline. "And who are you?"
"You know, it's good manners to introduce yourself before demanding other people's names. I would have thought you'd have known that."
"It's obvious you're a Mudblood." Malfoy replied. "Otherwise you would know who I am." He shook his head. "Mudbloods... you shouldn't even be allowed to go to Hogwarts. The Pureblood families shouldn't have to study with such riff-raff as you."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Really? Well... let's see. Albino... piss-poor intelligence... two butt-monkeys behind you. You must be a Malfoy."
Draco raised his nose in the air. "And what of it?"
"Nothing." Harry said.
"Then why comment?"
"No, I said you're a nothing, Malfoy. You're a small-minded, petty, arrogant little bigot." He paused and smirked. "Your father must be so proud of you."
"When my father hears of this-" Malfoy's pale skin gained a touch of pink.
"You know... I knew you were gonna say that." Harry replied, his voice cool and deadly. "When your father hears of this, Malfoy, pass on a message from me." He stood, towering over the small boy. "I'll be coming for him."
Malfoy sniffed, trying to look down on Harry. Considering he was a good five inches smaller, not an easy feat. "And who are you to demand such a thing of me?"
Harry smirked. "I'm Harry Potter."
Malfoy immediately brightened. "Ah... I was hoping to meet you." He gazed imperiously at Hermione. "You shouldn't be sitting with such filth as this, Potter." He held out his hand. "Some families are better than others in the Wizarding world. I can help you there."
Harry cocked his head. "Weren't you listening to me a minute ago? The part where I said you're a small-minded, petty, arrogant little bigot?" He looked back at Hermione, then back to Malfoy. "And who the fuck are you to call my travelling companion 'filth'?"
Malfoy sneered. "She's a Mudblood. She should be on her knees cleaning my shoes. That's all Mudbloods are worth!"
Harry's fist snaked out, punching Draco in the nose. "Apologise." He hissed. Malfoy shook his head, taking a step back. Harry took a step forward, his face a mask of anger. "Apologise... now."
Malfoy burbled a quick 'sorry', before turning and dashing down the corridor.
Harry waved his hand, allowing the door to slam shut. He looked at Hermione. "Now do you understand why I said to read that book?"
Hermione nodded slowly. "I..."
"Being Muggleborn, you'll face prejudiced wankers like him a lot in the Wizarding world."
"So..." Hermione looked confused. A cute expression for her, really... "So you don't believe in that then?"
Harry snorted. "God, no. Magic's magic. Doesn't matter if you're from an inbred family like the Malfoys, or you're a first generation."
"So... you weren't being nasty when you gave it to me?" Hermione asked.
"I wouldn't do that to anyone." Harry replied. "It's good preparatory reading material for a first-generation witch or wizard, to see what the old families think." He held out his hand. "I believe we've gotten off on the wrong foot. I'm Harry Potter."
"Hermione Granger." She replied, taking his hand, before realisation struck her. "Harry Potter? I've read about you."
Harry rolled his eyes again. "I bet. You know, none of those people were there that night, nor have I been interviewed by anyone. So, how can they write accurate history books?"
She nodded slowly. "I can see your point."
Harry grinned at her. "Ah... you're a bookworm, like me, aren't you?"
She nodded shyly. "I've... I've never had many friends, so I buried myself in my books." She didn't know why she was being so open with a stranger, but somehow... it felt right.
Harry nodded. "I know how you feel. When I was in primary school, my cousin beat up anyone who tried to be my friend. So, I hid in the books, too." He held out his hand. "Friends?"
Hermione grinned at him, and took his hand again. "Friends."
The two talked for most of the trip, comparing books read and what knowledge they shared.
"So... do you know what house you'll be in?" Hermione asked, gingerly biting into a chocolate frog. As her parents were dentists, they generally didn't like her eating sweets or chocolates. I've known him for two hours, and he's corrupting me already.
Harry pondered for a moment. "Well... my parents were Gryffindors... but, to be honest, I don't think I will be."
"Why not?" She asked, setting the frog down. She chewed thoughtfully, allowing the rich chocolate to melt in her mouth.
"Well... the predominant trait for Gryffindors is bravery." He thought for a moment. "I'm not saying I'm not brave, but I'd like to think I have a modicum of intelligence. Gryffs are generally known for rushing in, where angels fear to tread." He thought again for a moment. "I think I'll be a Ravenclaw. That house is prized for knowledge."
Hermione nodded. "I heard some kids earlier talk about the houses. They said that Slytherin was for the cunning, but I've also heard it's a house of evil."
Harry started sniggering. "It's true that Slytherin's have a bad rep. It's true that a vast number of 'evil' wizards come from Slytherin, but that doesn't make all Slytherins evil. It's actually a house for the cunning and ambitious. Since most 'evil' wizards want power, they're classed as ambitious. And that's why they go into Slytherin."
"What about that other house?" Hermione asked, taking another delicate bite of her chocolate frog.
"Hufflepuff?" Harry asked. "Well, to be honest, it has a bit of a bad reputation itself. People describe it as a dumping ground for the useless and squibs. Those who aren't brave, ambitious or intelligent. It's not true."
"No?"
"No." Harry replied, smiling softly. "Hufflepuffs value two things; hard work, and loyalty. Most people in Hufflepuff are fairly quiet, buckling down and getting the job done. That's why they're poorly represented. 'Puffs generally work behind the scenes."
Hermione stared into Harry's eyes. "What do you think I'll be?" She asked tentatively.
"Ravenclaw." Harry answered immediately. "You'll be a 'Claw, definitely."
"How do you know?" Hermione asked, biting down on her bottom lip.
She looks so cute when she does that. Harry thought to himself. "Well... when I look at you, I can see a fierce intelligence burning behind your eyes." She blushed, and looked down. "I could also see you being a Gryffindor... you're scared, but you're still here."
"What am I scared of?" She whispered, looking down at her lap.
Harry leaned back, and gazed at her. "You're afraid you won't fit in." He replied softly. "You're worried that people will pick on you, tease you, call you names."
She nodded.
"You're also afraid you'll fail." Harry said. "You're afraid that someone will tell you it's all a big joke, and they'll send you home."
She looked up, staring directly at his startlingly green eyes. "How do you know that?" She whispered.
Harry sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked down. "That's how I feel." He said softly. "I'm terrified that I'll get there... and then be told it's all some cruel joke, and I have to go back to my... relatives."
"And... you don't want that?" Hermione asked, keeping her intense gaze on him.
"No." He said, so softly Hermione had to strain to hear him. She stood, and moved to set next to him, clumsily wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He looked at her, startled. She was never this forward the first time around.
He leaned into her for a moment, sharing the warmth of the hug. He looked into her eyes, inches from his own. "Thank you."
She smiled warmly at him, sending pleasure up and down his synapses. He felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her, her eleven-year old face merging with the twenty-one year old he'd known. He shook his head, clearing the image before things got confusing.
CHAPTER FIVE –
The Sorting
The train pulled into Hogsmeade station, prompting organised chaos as hundreds of students rushed off the train, each of them trying to be the first to get to wherever they were going. Harry had stopped Hermione from leaping up as soon as the train stopped.
"Hermione, just wait a few minutes. I don't particularly fancy getting trampled underneath all that lot." He said calmly.
Hermione looked out of the window, seeing some thuggish young men, gigantic compared to her and Harry, push their way through crowds of younger students. She nodded. "I suppose so." She looked back at Harry, biting on her bottom lip. "I don't want to be late, though."
Rolling his eyes, Harry held up his hands. "Don't worry. We'll be there with plenty of time." He looked out of the window. "See? The biggest ones have gone already."
The two got up, and quickly disembarked, hearing a rough voice calling; "First years! First years this way!"
Harry looked up, an unconscious smile on his face as he saw his first friend leading the group of little people to the boats. He turned to Hermione. "Are you scared on going on a boat?" He asked gently.
Hermione shook her head, biting down on her bottom lip. "No. Is that how we get there?"
He nodded. "Yep. First years take the boats across the lake, while the rest of the students take carriages up to the school. It gives them a chance to get there before us, so we can be sorted while they're all sat down."
Harry approached Hagrid, smiling warmly at him. "Hey, Hagrid."
The half-giant looked down, grinning at the child. "Hello, Harry. How was the ride?"
"It was great, Hagrid." He said, gesturing to Hermione. "This is my friend, Hermione Granger."
Hermione smiled shyly, as Hagrid held out a hand to her. She took it, and he gently shook her hand, making sure not to hurt her. "Any friend of Harry's is a friend of mine, Hermione. I'm Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds here at Hogwarts."
"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hagrid." Hermione said politely.
"Just Hagrid, please." The half-giant replied, letting her hand go. He turned back to the rest of the first-years. "Right, you lot, into the boats. No more than four to a boat."
Harry led Hermione to a boat, seeing a gangly red-haired and a slightly podgy sandy-haired boy get in after them. As soon as everyone was settled, Hagrid let out a cry of 'forward!' and the boats moved as one, sailing slowly though the Black Lake. As they rounded a small island, Harry got his 'first' glimpse of Hogwarts castle.
It was beautiful. Lit up, the whole castle seemed to radiate magic and wisdom. Next to him, Hermione gasped, as she saw the same thing he did.
After disembarking the boats, and sniggering at Ron Weasley who fell in, Harry followed Hagrid up the steps, where a stern-looking woman was stood waiting for them. Professor Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, and Deputy Headmistress.
"The first years, Professor McGonagall." Hagrid said formally.
"Thank you. I'll take them from here, Hagrid." McGonagall said primly. Hagrid turned and stomped away, heading through one of the side doors into the Great Hall.
"Good evening, students." McGonagall began. "My name is Professor McGonagall. In just a few moments, you will be led through these doors, and be sorted into your house. There are four Houses here at Hogwarts. They are Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw... and Slytherin." The faint disgust in her voice when she said 'Slytherin' made Harry smile.
"While you are at Hogwarts, your house is like your family. Do well, and you will be awarded House points. Any rule-breaking will result in you losing points. At the end of the year, the house with the greatest number of points will win the House Cup." McGonagall spun on her heel. "Wait here." She vanished through the doors into the Great Hall, leaving the first years alone for a moment.
Draco Malfoy, still smarting over the rebuke Harry had given him on the train, decided to try and turn the rest of the first years against him.
"So, what they were saying on the train is true." He said smarmily. "Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."
The rest of the first years started chattering amongst themselves, while people started sneaking glances at the rest, trying to figure out which 'ickle-firstie' was Harry.
Harry ignored the silly prat, recollecting the first time he came here, and the debate with the Sorting Hat.
Malfoy strutted over, standing directly in front of him. "Well, Potter. Not going to introduce yourself to your adoring fans?"
Harry looked up, gazing disdainfully at Malfoy. "You know, Mr. Malfoy, I don't have fans. If people want to get to know me, they can have the common courtesy to introduce themselves. Unlike yourself, of course." He pulled back a sneer. "Didn't you say on the train that you could teach me all about which families I had to ignore and treat like dirt?"
Malfoy blushed. "I didn't say that."
"No." Harry replied. "You told me that some families, and you meant your own, were better than others. Implying that you are some sort of superior being." He sneered. "You're not, Malfoy. You're a scared little boy."
"When my father hears of this-" Malfoy began, his face contorting into childish anger.
Harry stepped closer, invading Malfoy's personal space. "My message stands, Malfoy!" He hissed. "You tell the Death Eater that spawned you that I will be coming for him!"
Harry turned round, ignoring the sputtering Malfoy, to see the rest of the first years looking at him. Almost everyone knew the name of Malfoy, a prominent Pureblood family, that seemed to consider itself the be-all and end-all of the Wizarding world.
"What?" He snapped, turning to face Hermione, who smiled warmly at him.
McGonagall came back, taking note of the sputtering Malfoy, and gestured to the first years. "This way."
Harry entered the Great Hall, following the other nervous first years. The first time he'd been here, he'd been terrified with them, but now, he knew better.
McGonagall took a step forward, a long scroll of parchment in her hand. She was about to speak, when the unbelievable happened. The Sorting Hat spoke.
"Before we begin," The Hat said, "I need to speak to you, Mr. Potter."
Around the hall, people began whispering to themselves. Various cries of 'Harry Potter!', 'Isn't he small?' and 'What's the Hat doing?' sounded around him.
Harry took a step forward, and closed his eyes. To the astonishment of all, Harry began to glow with a pale white light, and began to float six inches off the ground. The Hat followed, glowing with a mix of green, scarlet, yellow and blue light.
So, Mr. Potter... I'm sorry, My Lord. The hat said. You do not belong in this time, or this place.
Things change, Adrian. Harry replied. I've come back to the turn of the tide. Things were going wrong. I'm here to set them straight.
As an heir of Hogwarts, you have the right to command me.
I know that. But, I don't want to 'command' you. I do, however, have some suggestions that may be of use to you in the future.
I will accept them. What about your current group? I sense things are not as they should be.
That would be right. Since we can communicate like this, I'll be able to give you my suggestions.
As you command, my lord.
Harry opened his eyes, the glow fading, as he dropped to the floor.
Dumbledore looked on with intense interest as the Sorting Hat spoke to Harry telepathically. He reached out with his Legilimency, only to find two sets of shields in place, one over the Sorting Hat, and an impenetrable set on Harry. He sat back, as the two stopped glowing.
"It shall be done." The hat intoned. Harry nodded once, and took a few steps back, joining the rest of his year-mates.
"What the hell was that?" Ron whispered to Harry, who ignored him.
McGonagall cleared her throat, and raised the parchment. "Abbot, Hannah!" As each student was called, the Sorting Hat's Legilimency crept out to Harry, who would shake his head imperceptibly. Until...
"Granger, Hermione!" The young girl took a few steps forward, and placed the Sorting Hat on her head.
Difficult... a fine mind, plenty of courage... a thirst to prove yourself. The Hat looked at Harry, who nodded slightly. Ravenclaw.
Are you sure?
Yes. She would do well in Gryffindor, but Ravenclaw will suit her better.
"If you're sure..." The Hat intoned. "Ravenclaw!"
Hermione jumped off the stool, took off the hat, and dashed to the Ravenclaw table. She sat down, ignored by her classmates. She tried to keep her face impassive, but couldn't keep the hurt in her eyes masked enough to someone who knew her.
The students passed by again, until it came to his own sorting. "Potter, Harry!"
Dumbledore sat up slightly straighter in his chair, eager to see the new Gryffindor. Even though he hadn't been sorted yet, it was impossible for Harry to go anywhere by Gryffindor. He had seen to that.
Harry stepped forward, and sat on the stool.
So... where do you want to go, my Lord? The hat asked.
Well... how about you read, and give the usual commentary, so that Dumbledore can hear it.
"Hmm... difficult... very difficult. Not a bad mind... there's courage, gracious, such courage... and a thirst... to prove yourself..." The hat muttered. "Cunning... loyalty... intelligence... bravery... what an enigma you are, Mr. Potter."
Ravenclaw, please. Harry sent to the hat. I'll need knowledge to survive, and where else but the home of the intelligent?
"Are you sure? You could be great, you know... it's all here in your head... and Slytherin could help you on your way to greatness."
Dumbledore sent a burst of Legilimency at the hat. It wouldn't do for the saviour of the Wizarding world to be a Slytherin! It would ruin his plans!
The Headmaster doesn't want you to be in Slytherin. The hat said to Harry, amused at Dumbledore's attempt. He's just told me to put you in Gryffindor.
Does he do this often? Harry asked. Interfere with the sorting?
Sometimes. The hat replied stiffly. There have been times he's wanted students in other houses. As Headmaster, I usually have to obey him.
Not today, though. Ravenclaw.
"Not Slytherin, eh?" The hat said, cheering up Dumbledore. "No? Well, if you're sure, better be... Ravenclaw!"
What? Dumbledore was startled. I said Gryffindor! He sent another burst of Legilimency at the Hat, only to be rebuffed.I will not interfere with this one, Headmaster. The hat replied. He knows both what he wants, and what he needs.
Albus fumed. I know what he needs. For the greater good, he needs to be in Gryffindor!
And who are you to determine the greater good, sir? The hat asked snappily. He is the Chosen One, the prophesised child. He asked for Ravenclaw, and that is where he shall go.
I demand you re-sort him into Gryffindor! I need him with the Weasley boy, to make sure that he doesn't go dark! Albus sent another ragged burst of Legilimency at the hat. Put him into Gryffindor!
The hat ignored him, and carried on with the next student.
Harry went over to the Ravenclaw table, ignoring the people who tried to get his attention. He sat next to Hermione, who looked at him with a pathetically hopeful expression on her face.
"You don't have to sit with me." She whispered, trying not to meet his eyes. "If you want to go and hang out with the cool kids."
Harry snorted. "I am with the cool kid." He whispered back, staring at her intently. "Believe me, I don't want fans. I want a good friend." He reached out, and took her hand under the table. "I'd like it to be you."
She nodded shyly, and squeezed his hand gently. She pulled back, and looked up at the rest of the Sorting. As soon as 'Zabini, Blaise' had been placed into Slytherin, Dumbledore stood up. "There are a few start of term announcements, but we'll get to those later. For the moment..." He raised his hands, the tables filling with food. "Let the feast... begin."
Harry looked over at Hermione, who was looking on with mild shock at the sudden arrival of hundreds of pounds of food. "Hermione." Harry whispered. "Flies." She looked up, blushing, and snapped her mouth closed, before tentatively reaching for a platter of chicken.
Harry loaded up his plate with his favourites, surprising Hermione when he gave himself a balanced meal, including plenty of vegetables. He started to eat, before a sudden thought made him look over his shoulder to the Gryffindor table, when he saw Ron Weasley eating like a pig, food all round his mouth, and several blobs of gravy and potatoes on his tie.
His stomach lurched, and he resolved to avoid the Weasel as much as possible over the next few days. He vividly remembered Ron's attitude and jealousy from the first time round, and decided to simply prevent any encounters with the git.
However, there were others at the Gryffindor table that he did want to 'meet'. The Weasley Twins, for two reasons: one, they were cool, and fun to hang out with; two, they had the Marauder's Map. And he would need that.
He looked over at Hermione, who was silently debating with herself whether or not to have seconds. Harry smiled at her. "Hermione." He whispered. "It's not gonna go anywhere. If you want more, have it."
Harry could almost read her thoughts, the whole 'don't wanna look fat' routine that young girls seemed to go through. He suppressed a chuckle as Hermione's face worked through several emotions, before placing another piece of chicken on her plate, before adding two small roast potatoes.
After the feast had been cleared away, leaving Harry with a single piece of Treacle Tart that he'd managed to grab off his plate before it vanished, Dumbledore stood up to give his speech.
"Welcome, everyone, to a new year at Hogwarts. For our returning students, it's a pleasure to see you again. For our new students, welcome to the finest school of Magic in the world. There are a few rules that I need to pass on to you. The Forbidden Forest, as it's name suggests, is strictly off-limits." Dumbledore peered down his nose at the Weasley twins. "Some of our older students would do well to remember this rule. Our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you that magic is not to be used in the corridors. The list of banned items has now reached a record two hundred and nine items. The entire list can be seen in Mr. Filch's office if you so desire."
He straightened slightly, looking even more formidable. "A final notice. The corridor on the right hand side of the third floor is strictly out of bounds to all students who do not wish to die a most painful death." There was dead silence at this statement, except for Harry who scoffed quietly and rolled his eyes, earning an elbow to the ribs from Hermione.
"Now, prefects, please lead your students to your dormitories. Schedules will be handed out at breakfast tomorrow morning. Good night."
Harry and Hermione followed the rest of the first years through the corridors, on their way to the Ravenclaw Common Room.
Unlike the rest of the Houses, Ravenclaw students didn't have a single password to remember. Since it was the house of the intelligent, each person wanting to enter had to be asked a question or riddle, and if they got it wrong, they had to wait until somebody else came.
The guardian of the entryway was an aristocratic man, who peered down at the students, looking thoroughly unimpressed with the new students.
The fifth year prefect, Penelope Clearwater, stood outside the portrait. "This is the Ravenclaw Common Room entrance. You'll have to answer the portrait's question or riddle to get it." She looked up at the man. "Your question, good sir?" She asked.
The portrait looked down. "Good evening. Your password is a riddle. 'I am golden, Sought by many, When you speak, I am broken, What am I?'"
Penelope looked at the first years. "Anyone want to take a guess?"
Harry scoffed and closed his eyes, shaking his head at the easiness of the question.
"Mr. Potter?" Penelope singled him out. "You seem to find this easy."
"Yes, I do." Harry replied, not opening his eyes.
"Would you care to share your answer with the rest of us?" She asked, already starting to not like the new first year.
"The answer is 'silence'." Harry replied, opening his eyes. "'Silence is golden', it's sought by many, 'cause you can never have enough of it, 'when you speak, it is broken', since you're making noise. So... silence." Harry replied.
The portrait smiled. "Pass." The portrait swung open. The students ambled inside, to see a comfortable room, decorated in blue and bronze, with lots of small couches and tables.
Penelope stood in the centre of the room. "Girls, your dormitories are on the left hand side, while the boys are on the right. Your dorm rooms each have your name on. Your trunks and other possessions should be in your room already."
Harry nodded, then headed up the stairs, after saying a quick goodnight to Hermione. When he got in his dorm, he was delighted to see that Ravenclaw students each got a single dorm room. No more listening to people bloody snoring! He thought delightedly. No more hearing the chainsaw massacre that is Ronald Bloody Weasley and Neville Longbottom.
During the previous time-line, back when he was a Gryffindor, he, Seamus and Dean had decided to play a small prank on Ron and Neville while they were asleep. They had recorded the sound of a motorbike, and played it to coincide with the snores of Ron and Neville. To their utter amazement, the two had soundly slept through the whole thing. After that, the three light sleepers had taken to the game with an amazing display of enthusiasm. They'd each found the loudest, most obnoxious noise they could, and then played it, at full volume.
During the experiment, held at 2am, they'd managed to wake 73 people, out of the 78 in Gryffindor. Since Harry, Dean and Seamus had been awake to perform the test, they'd woken everyone else, who promptly decided to congregate in the sixth year male dorms to voice their displeasure. Ron and Neville had slept through the whole bloody thing, and didn't understand the murderous glances they got the morning after from the rest of the Gryffindors.
Harry shook his head, stopping his musing, before stripping down to his boxers, and climbing into bed. Ah... Hogwarts beds. I've missed this. He closed his eyes, picturing the 21-year old Hermione, before drifting off to sleep.
CHAPTER SIX –
The Dream
Harry tossed and turned, his tortured mind producing a hodgepodge of dreams, memories and nightmares, all intertwined in a horrific tableau.
Harry entered the train compartment, stopping when he saw Hermione, sat alone, engrossed in the newest edition of Hogwarts; A History. She was dressed casually, a t-shirt and jeans, biting on her bottom lip as she learnt some new fact.
Harry sat on the bench opposite her, content for the moment to simply gaze at her. Within moments, she glanced up, looking puzzled at Harry's stare.
"Harry? Is everything all right?" She asked.
Harry nodded. "Can I ask you a question, Hermione? It's a bit... odd."
She snorted. "Harry, over the last six years, we've done a hell of a lot of odd stuff. I doubt your question could be odder than facing Fluffy. Or fighting in the Department of Mysteries."
Nodding, Harry composed his thoughts. "Why have we never gone out?" He could almost hear the mental squeal of brakes as her brain froze.
"W-What?" She asked, her voice trembling.
Harry leaned back, folding his hands in his lap. "Why have you and I never dated?"
"Where the hell did this come from, Harry?" Hermione asked, looking slightly panicked.
"I was sitting, trapped in my room on Privet Drive, pondering life, love and the universe." Harry replied. "I was thinking about my... 'relationship' with Ginny." Even Hermione could hear the emphasis he placed on the word 'relationship'.
Hermione felt her hackles rising. Oh, god, does he know? She thought to herself.
Harry nodded at the look of understanding on her face. "She dosed me with a love potion, Hermione. Also had a mild intoxication effect. Did you know?"
I'm gonna regret this. She thought sadly. "I figured it out at Dumbledore's funeral." She replied. "She didn't seem all that bothered about you breaking up with her. Then, when I went to the Burrow, I found a couple of bottles of potion, which confirmed it. She wasn't bothered, because she knew she could get you back whenever she wanted."
"And you didn't tell me." He said flatly. "I assume because you didn't know how to tell me."
She nodded again. "How the hell do you tell your best friend that the girl he loves is using him? Trying to gain access to his money and fame. I was planning to dose you with the counter potion, and let it go from there. That way, you could make your own choice while free and clear of the potion. If you wanted to stay with her, you would. If not, you'd break up with her properly." She reached into her robes, and withdrew a small vial. "This is an antidote to Amortentia, Harry."
He nodded, but didn't take the vial. "I've already had one. Got it from the Apothecary in Diagon Alley. Woke me up to quite a few different things."
Hermione cocked an eyebrow, putting the vial back in her robe. "Like what?"
Harry leaned back, crossing his arms. Hermione recognised the body language, meaning that Harry was feeling nervous about whatever he was about to discuss, but was going to get through it. "In my entire life, I've only found six people I knew were showing me their true selves."
"Eh?" Hermione asked, confused by the comment.
"Six people. The three Dursleys. They hated me with a passion, for the simple fact that I'm a wizard. They didn't put any airs or graces on. Flat-out hatred. I don't like it, but I can understand it. Next is, oddly enough, Snape. He's hated me since the day I was born, simply because I was born to his most hated foe. And he's never hidden that opinion or lied to me about it. Again, I respect him for that. I think the man's a murdering arsehole who I'm going to kill someday..."
Hermione's brain transmitted the standard 'he's a Professor and should be respected' speech to her mouth, but she managed to block it, before shrugging and nodding along with him. "That's four, Harry." She said softly. "Who're the others?"
"Number five is Ron."
"Ron?" Hermione was confused. "But... he's been..."
"Ever since the day I met him, he's been jealous. No matter what he's tried to be since then, he's always been, and will always be, jealous of the 'Boy-Who-Lived'. That, and I'm tempted to rip his spleen out through his nostrils for the way he treated you over the summer."
Hermione nodded. That day at the Burrow would not soon be forgotten. Calling her a cheap, Mudblood whore! The pain in his crotch, according to the twins, had lasted for days.
"Who's the last?"
"You, Hermione." Harry replied softly. "You've always been supportive. You've always been caring. You look after me, for no other reason than you can." He smiled warmly at her.
Hermione smiled back, resisting the urge to squish him in a big hug. "You're welcome, Harry."
He leaned forward slightly. "And so, I've been wondering. Why the hell didn't I think about asking you out? You're beautiful, caring, loving and all-around great."
She blushed prettily. "I... I never thought you'd be interested in me, Harry." She looked down. "I'm not pretty like the other girls in Hogwarts."
Harry nodded. "That's true. You're not."
Hermione felt the rush of hurt. She knew it herself, of course, but to hear Harry confirm it like that...
"Hermione. They're pretty. You, on the other hand, are beautiful. They're clever. You're brilliant." He smiled at her shocked face. "You're the one-eyed man in the kingdom of the blind, Hermione."
She sniffed, using the back of her hand to wipe away a tear.
"I know this is an awful way to ask... but I couldn't think of anything better." He suddenly looked shy. "Hermione... will you be mine?"
She snorted softly. "Harry, you prat." She replied warmly. "I was always yours."
Harry suddenly looked shy. "Then... Can I kiss you?" Unconsciously, he bit on his bottom lip, looking at her with such scared eagerness it left her breathless.
"I'll be very upset if you don't, Harry." Hermione said, launching herself onto his lap.
The scene changed as Harry moaned in satisfaction. The image of Hermione, breathless, eyes shining and her lips puffy from the workout they'd just received, changed into his last memory of her, from the Final Battle.
Hermione ducked under yet another green Killing curse. Harry and her had been pinned down for over a quarter of an hour, as the ragged remnants of the Order battled around them. The wards had gone up as soon as the warriors for the light had arrived, leaving them no option but to fight. There were even anti-Animagus and anti-Broom wards, ensuring that everyone would stay.
Hermione popped over their ragged shelter, sending off a wave of Reducto curses, before dropping back down.
"Honey?" She said to Harry in a sickly-sweet voice.
Harry popped up, letting out a barrage of explosive and sonic blasts. He pulled a grenade from his vest and threw it, before dropping back down. "Yes, dear?" He asked.
"Why don't you take me anyplace nice anymore?" She asked, pulling a sonic grenade from her pack, throwing in a casual arc over her shoulder.
Harry looked hurt. "Are you not enjoying yourself, darling?" He asked in a mock-hurt tone. "I'm upset. I arrange for all these nice people to come and entertain us, and all you do is complain."
Hermione grabbed Harry by his shirt, pulled him down, and kissed him roughly. For a moment, he was cross-eyed, as his wife ravaged his mouth. He shook his head. "Well... yeah, we could have stayed home and done that instead."
Harry suddenly stiffened, crying out in agony, his hand flying up to his scar. "He's here!" He hissed. "Run!"
Ignoring her husband's feverish ranting, as she called any attempt to get her to leave a fight, she popped up, firing off another wave of curses. She saw Voldemort appear at the edge of the apparition wards, and stroll through casually.
"Yep. He's here." She said casually. "Doesn't look too happy, either." Her tone was nonchalant, but no-one had been able to stand up to Voldemort directly. Not even Harry, who had been marked as his equal two decades before.
Harry shook his head, using his Occlumency skills to drive the pain away. "You should go, babe. I've got a bad feeling about this."
She rolled her eyes, ducking down when an explosion hex hit the wall they were hiding behind. "Harry, you always have a bad feeling about this. You wouldn't be you if you didn't. In the last dozen fights, you've told me to run, and did I?"
"No." Harry grudgingly replied. "But, I have a really bad feeling about this one."
"Thirteen?" Hermione giggled. "Come on, Harry."
The wall the two were hiding behind was vaporised in a massive blast, throwing the two into the air, to slump into the ground, barely conscious.
"That was fun." Harry groaned, as he rolled over. He spied his wand sitting a few feet away, fortunately intact after the blast. He reached out to pick it up... only to pull his hand away as the faithful wand burst into flames. Harry looked up to see Voldemort, barely six feet away, sneering at him.
Hermione flicked her eyes open, everything bleary for a few moments. She looked up, to see Death incarnate standing in front of her.
"You know, I was going to torture you, Mudblood." Voldemort said in a soothing tone. "But, I think I'll just kill you." He raised his wand. "Avada Kedavra!" The green light hit her, and Hermione Potter was no more.
Harry watched the light hit Hermione, and saw her collapse to the ground, dead. He let out in incoherent bellow of pain and rage, as he crab-walked over to her, grasping her lifeless body in his arms. For a few moments, pain, overwhelming, soul-destroying pain filled his every sense, only to be washed away in ice-cold flames.
It was at that point that Harry James Potter, the 'Boy-Who-Lived', the Chosen One, found 'the power the Dark Lord knows not'. And it wasn't love, as Dumbledore had preached to him a decade ago. It wasn't compassion, or mercy, or decency.
It was rage. It was pain. It was anger. It was justice. It was vengeance! Harry gently placed her body down on the ground, before standing, turning and facing Voldemort.
"Oh, sorry, Harry." Voldemort's cultured voice grated on his ears. "I'd almost forgotten you were here. Shame about your little whore. Don't worry, though. You'll be joining her soon."
"No." Harry's voice was different. Melodic. A harmony. As if it was thousands of voices, merged into one. "Your time is over, Tom Riddle."
Voldemort snarled at hearing his true name, raising his wand and throwing another Killing Curse. It washed over the body of the 'Boy-Who-Lived', before blinking away.
"You cannot kill us, Tom." The collective voice replied calmly. "We are truth. We are justice. We are revenge!" Harry took a step forward, his body crackling with power. "We are the Fallen. Those who you have killed. We wield this body, so that you will die." Harry's hand raised, glowing with light, a pure, white magic. "You want power, Tom?" The voice asked. "We will give you power." A beam of light seared out, savagely impacting Voldemort, burning through his robes.
All around them, the battle stopped after the hoarse cry of Voldemort sang out. The white light, the light of pure magic, fuelled by the thirst for revenge of thousands of souls, the newest of these belonging to Hermione Potter, burning through Voldemort, destroying the dark magic he had used to prolong his life, the rituals coming undone in the blink of an eye.
"Vengeance has come to you, Tom, and found you lacking." Harry's multi-voice called out. "It's time for your evil to end." The white light hit the Dark Mark on Voldemort's arm, connecting him to every other Death Eater. Each of them were engulfed in white flames, destroying the bodies of the evil minions.
Voldemort's body shook in rage, confusion, fear and agony. "You should have died that night twenty years ago, Tom." The voice called out, before switching to Harry's own. "We both should have. All the pain would have ended then." The white light increased, destroying the final traces of magic in Riddle's body. Ever since he had been resurrected back in '95, Voldemort's body was comprised of dark magic and a few body parts. The thigh bone of his father. The hand of Peter Pettigrew. And the blood of Harry James Potter. Without the magic to sustain it, the body collapsed.
Harry dropped to his knees, letting the barrage stop. Voldemort's ravaged body dropped at the same time, laying on the ground, not even a twitch. Harry turned away, conjuring up a large blanket, which he used on Hermione, tucking it right up to her chin.
Lieutenant Dean Thomas, one of the last survivors of Hogwarts, gingerly came over, avoiding the fallen body of the Dark Lord like the plague. He saw Harry laying the blanket over the body of his wife.
"Harry?" He asked quietly.
"She never liked the cold." Came the murmured reply, as he tucked the blanket neatly around her.
"Harry, she's dead." Dean said bluntly.
Harry looked up, his face expressionless. "I know that, Dean." He smoothed her hair down. "I don't want her to be cold in the afterlife." He whispered. He conjured a large, clean white sheet, which he used to cover her upper body and face.
Harry sat up, sweat pouring from his body, trembling from the nightmare he'd just experience.
"No." He said out loud. "It won't happen that way again." He forced his clenched fists open, noting absently the crescent shaped marks from his nails. "I won't let it happen that way again."