Chapter Text
Harry Potter stood in front of the headless corpse of his hated nemesis, Tom Riddle. The man who’d haunted him for seventeen years, the man who had taken away everyone he’d ever loved. That man was dead, Harry had killed him.
They’d ripped the area and their respective bodies apart, trying to kill each other. The courtyard in which they’d fought was a shattered mess. Blood covered what wasn’t strewn with debris, some of it was Harry’s most of it was Tom’s.
Harry’s left arm was hanging limp at his side, his shoulder having been destroyed by shrapnel. His face was covered in blood from the cut on his forehead, more blood had soaked his shirt and trousers from a wound on his side.
Around him groups of wizards and witches, some were in Auror robes, others in St Mungo’s robes milled about. They were collecting the wounded, the dead, or body parts for later identification. Blood soaked into the ground and was splattered across many, many Death Eater masks.
Hogwarts lay ruined, there were parts of the building still on fire, while others had already become burnt out shells, threatening to collapse inward on itself at the slightest provocation.
Reaching out, Harry summoned the elder wand and dropped it in his pocket. He kept staring at the old man lying dead on the ground as he heard footsteps behind him. “Mister Potter, you need to see a healer,” McGonagall said as she stopped beside him.
“I’m fine,” Harry replied robotically. “There are people who need healers more than me. I’ll survive.”
“You are bleeding, you have puncture wounds in your side and shoulder. You need to at least let a healer stem the bleeding and apply a dressing.”
“Are you ordering me to seek treatment, Professor?” Harry asked, incredulously.
“Yes,” McGonagall said, firmly.
Harry slumped his working shoulder and slowly followed his head of house into what was left of the castle. Aurors and St Mungo’s personnel rushed past, in and out of the shattered remains. They walked into a room off the entrance hall, where a healer was waiting for them. As she cleaned his wounds and banished the blood, Harry turned to McGonagall. “Professor, where’s Hermione?”
McGonagall shifted uncomfortably and took a deep breath. “I’ll take you to her once we’re done here.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Is she ok?”
“I will… take you to her,” McGonagall replied slowly.
Harry let out a shuddering breath, as a ball of ice settled in his stomach. He quietly let the healer finish, and followed McGonagall out of the room and over to the Great Hall. There he saw the cost of the battle, row upon row of bodies covered in sheets, tens of dozens, maybe hundreds of bodies. Some were clean and others were blood stained. Healers and Aurors milled around between the bodies, taking notes or consulting with one another.
McGonagall spoke to a healer who pointed vaguely in a direction before the two set off again. They walked carefully between the bodies until McGonagall stopped and turned around, regarding Harry sadly. “I’m so sorry, Mis… Harry.”
Pulling back the sheet Harry sank to his knees, his vision blurring with tears. The girl he’d crushed on for at least five years, the smartest person he’d ever known, laid dead in front of him. He leaned forward kissing Hermione on the forehead, cursing himself for never telling her how he felt. He sat, cradling Hermione’s head in his lap for a few minutes before regaining the ability to speak. “How?”
“Mister Malfoy, I believe… he ambushed her, and they engaged in a duel. Miss Parkinson distracted Miss Granger and… I’m so sorry.”
“Where are they?” He growled, his broken body and exhausted magical core stirring to life, fed by his newly found anger.
“Dead, I was forced to fell Mister Malfoy personally to protect a group of fleeing students. Miss Parkinson was crushed by falling debris,” McGonagall said regretfully.
“And Ron?” Harry asked, his anger ebbing away.
“Mister Creevey reported that Miss Granger told him Mister Weasley was consumed by the fiendfyre that destroyed the Come and Go Room. He was the last of the Weasley’s, their line is gone.”
“All of them… Fleur too?” Harry asked.
“Yes… I’m afraid so,” McGonagall confirmed, her voice grave.
“Tonks and Remus too?”
“Yes.”
“I-Is there anyone left?” Harry asked despairingly.
“Very few on either side survived the battle. Even now some still fight, to kill the remaining giants and Acromantula roaming the grounds. I dare say the number of dead will continue to rise.”
Harry slowly regained his feet and pulled the sheet over the body of his best friend. He scrubbed his face with his hands as he felt the exhaustion finally hit him. He stumbled as McGonagall grabbed Harry by the arm to help steady him, “Mister Potter, I think you should rest. There are beds on the second floor, unfortunately the Gryffindor dorm was destroyed in the fighting.”
Nodding, Harry slowly walked away and climbed the stairs, finding an empty room with some effort and collapsing on the bed. He had just enough magic to put up a silencing charm before crying himself to sleep. All the anger and pain he’d been feeling poured out, making the room shudder as his magic burst from his body. Once it was spent, he collapsed into a fitful sleep.
A few days passed, in which what was left of Britain’s magical community began burying their dead. Only Harry and McGonagall were present when Hermione was lowered into the ground. Despite being a war hero, the world was already trying to forget.
Once it was finished, McGonagall and Harry walked away towards the edge of the graveyard. “Have you considered what you’re going to do next?” McGonagall asked.
“No, I haven’t really thought about anything since the battle, my mind… was elsewhere,” Harry said, his shoulders slumped as a shadow crossed his face.
“Ah, yes of course…” McGonagall said quietly, she paused a beat before speaking again. “Would you consider returning to Hogwarts, you’ll…”
“No,” Harry said firmly.
“Excuse me?” McGonagall said, unused to being cut off so abruptly.
“Everyone I loved is dead, I have no one left. And you expect me to return to Hogwarts as if nothing happened? Are you insane?” Harry asked incredulously, rounding on the older woman.
McGonagall sent Harry a withering look. “Mister Potter, I am aware you’re grieving, but you will not take that tone with me young man.”
“I am no longer your student, Professor, I will take any tone I like. Goodbye,” Harry said, turning on his heels and aparating away.
McGonagall sighed, putting aside the disrespect, she genuinely wanted Harry to return to Hogwarts. She was worried about him, defeating Voldemort had not lifted the weight off his shoulders. In fact, the opposite was true, it seemed to have added more, piling the guilt of the dead on top. At least at Hogwarts they could monitor him, and perhaps stop him from doing something he might not be able to take back.
Harry sunk to the ground, in the entry hall of the Black ancestral family home. He brought his knees up against his chest and tipped his head forward, letting out a long breath. He’d managed to push his last ally away, leaving him completely alone in the world.
No one wanted Harry anymore, what was left of magical Britain wanted to move on. They wanted to forget the war. They’d pinned a medal to his chest and expected him to accept it and go away.
“Maybe I should go away…” Harry muttered to himself. He wasn’t talking about leaving the country, he wanted his pain to be over permanently. He knew what he needed to do and how to do it. There was only the matter of settling his affairs.
A few days later, Harry descended into the depth of the Ministry. Even after the war, security at night was pretty light, and everyone recognised the man-who-won. It had taken surprisingly little time to organise his affairs, he directed that his assets be liquidated, after paying a hefty fine for the damage inflicted on Gringotts, and the proceeds be distributed to victims of the war. He specified that they be equally spread between mugglesborns and pure bloods, no matter who tried to influence the direction of the funds.
He wrote a short letter and mailed it to the Prophet, announcing he was going away. He explained that he felt his continued presence in England wouldn’t allow the rifts to heal. He apologised to the families of those he couldn’t save, thanked his supporters, and pleaded for the lessons of the war not to be forgotten.
Emerging from the lift, Harry retraced his steps from years before to end up in the death chamber of the Department of Mysteries. He hated this place, but it was the only way to find a quick painless death. Harry wasn’t sure he deserved a painless death, not after he failed so many, including his best friend, the girl he loved.
Harry had dressed for the occasion, purchasing the best robes he could find on short notice. He wanted to look smart when he met his parents on the other side. At least, he hoped he ended up in the same place as them…
Taking a deep breath, Harry walked forward and allowed himself to be consumed by the Veil.
When Harry opened his eyes he found himself in an old wooden building. It was bathed in afternoon sun giving the room a warm orange glow. He could hear bugs chirping outside as he stood beside a large desk with two chairs either side.
Was this heaven, hell, or purgatory? Harry asked himself.
As he pondered, a door he hadn’t noticed until now opened, a man in green military fatigues with brown hair, eyes, wearing glasses stepped through, holding a Manila folder.
“Oh good, you’re here, hi, I’m Daniel Jackson.” The man said, crossing the room and shaking his hand.
“Harry, Harry Potter,” Harry replied.
“Ah, yes, I knew that already,” Daniel said with a nervous chuckle, pointing to the manila folder he had in his hand. “Please.” He added indicating to the seat in front on the opposite side of the table.
Harry sat down in front of Daniel as he flipped the folder open and flipped through a couple of pages. “You’ve… had a rough life, from what it says here. I’m, uh, sorry about that.”
“It is, what it is,” Harry replied.
Daniel looked up from the paperwork and pinned Harry with a piercing stare. “But, it’s not, is it? You were forced into an impossible situation that shouldn’t have been anything you had to deal with. There were plenty of adults who could have found a solution, but they didn’t. They sat on their hands and did nothing, and made you deal with it. You were a child…”
Daniel shook his head and flicked his nose with his thumb. “Sorry, that’s not my department anymore. I’m only here to assist with your transition into what’s next.”
“You mean the afterlife?” Harry asked.
Daniel smiled. “Uh, no actually. We have something different in mind for you.”
“Something… I’m dead. What else is there?” Harry asked incredulously.
Daniel leaned back in his chair and seemed to ponder something for a moment. “What if I told you there were other worlds out there, with other Harry Potter’s. Some live lives very similar to yours, some vastly different. I’m offering you a chance to experience one of those lives. To live, have a family, grow old and die, and experience a world very different from the one you left.”
“What’s the catch?” Harry asked, sounding suspicious.
Daniel pulled out a piece of paper from the folder and put it in front of him. “We’d like you to do some work for us after you die. It won’t be for very long, you’ll have eternity, after all.”
Harry let out a breath through his nose, staring down at the piece of paper. “For how long?”
“Eh, six hundred years, give or take.”
“Oh, I thought it would be for a long time…” Harry replied sarcastically.
Daniel smiled a little. “It is eternity, and you’ll be able to see your family.”
Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “What happens to Harry from that world? Why am I so much more deserving of his life than he is.”
Daniel glanced away from the table to the door of the room. “I think he should explain.”
Daniel walked out and another Harry walked in. He wasn’t a mirror image of the man sitting at the table, far from it. This Harry was taller, well built, more suited to be a chaser than a seeker, he didn’t wear glasses and his eyes flared with life and magic. The most notable thing, and what Harry noticed first about him, was he had no lightning bolt shaped scar on his head.
“Wow, I look like shit,” The other Harry joked as he sat down.
“T-this was the best I could do…” Harry explained lamely.
“Relax, I was just making a joke, though, I guess you’re not much of a jokester, huh?”
“No, not really,” Harry answered quietly.
The other Harry was quiet for a few moments. “The guy out there, Daniel. He showed me some of what you went through… you’re tougher than me, I’d like to pretend you aren’t, that I’m some big macho guy. I’m not, I had a great life, and you went through hell.”
“You’d think I’d be upset that you’re taking over my life, but I’m not. I think if anyone deserves a break, it’s you.” He added.
“Why are you so okay with this? If it were my life…”
Other Harry chuckled and raised an eyebrow. “Really, if someone was walking in to take over your life you’re really telling me you’d complain?”
“Uh, honestly, no,” Harry admitted with a half hearted laugh.
Other Harry let out a breath and played with some of the paper on the table. “I was never destined to have a long life. I was born with a ticking time bomb in my chest, figuratively speaking anyway. It was a miracle I lived as long as I did. I can’t go back, I’d love to, but that option isn’t open to me. Letting you have my life while I go off to explore the secrets of the universe? Sounds like a hell of a trade to me. I’m hoping to find out the full proof way to seduce a babe, if I find it I’ll come back and tell you,” Other Harry said with a grin.
“Your Mum and Dad are alive?” Harry asked.
“Yep, Sirius too, they’re brilliant, even if I’m a massive pain in the ass a lot of the time. Tell them I love them, and that I’m ok.”
Harry nodded. “Sure.”
Other Harry smiled again. “So, you’re going to do it?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Harry replied, feeling slightly stronger.
“Good, I’ll tell Daniel you’re ready,” Other Harry said, getting up.
“Is there anything I should know?” Harry asked.
Other Harry thought about it for a moment before grinning. “Nah, you’ll figure it out.”
Other Harry left before Harry could challenge him and Daniel returned a few seconds later. “So, we’re all set.”
Harry glanced at the door again and shook his head. Of course someone raised by James Potter and Sirius Black would act like that, Harry sensed trouble in his future. “Sure, let’s do this.”
Harry picked up the pen and signed his name. Daniel nodded and smiled. “You won’t regret this. Oh, and you can only tell your close friends and family what happened, that’s part of the agreement. No going on TV shows and telling the world you’re from a different universe.”
“Would anyone really believe me?” Harry asked incredulously.
“You’d be surprised…” Daniel replied absently. “It was nice to meet you, Harry. Good luck.”
Daniel shook Harry’s hand before leaning back in his seat and snapping his fingers. A second later the world went black around Harry and he felt himself drifting off to sleep.
Harry groaned and lifted his arm to shield his eyes from the sunlight assaulting his face. Moments later Harry’s eyes snapped open and he sat up in bed. He was in his dorm room, the one he’d shared with Neville, Dean, Sheamus, and Ron for six years. Reflexively he reached for his glasses only to realise he didn’t need them.
Harry reached up and brushed his fingers over his fringe, to find his scar missing. He really was in another world, it hadn’t been a death induced hallucination.
Harry flinched when he heard a door open, only to relax when he realized it was Neville, emerging from the bathroom attached to the dorm room.
“Bloody hell, mate, are you ever going to get up this morning?” Neville asked. “I know it’s Saturday, but it’s almost nine. We’re going to miss out on breakfast at this rate.”
“Right, sorry…” Harry replied, he grabbed some likely looking clothes and disappeared into the bathroom.
Once inside he turned to look in the mirror, to find the man he’d met in the afterlife staring back at him. He felt stronger and healthier than he had at any time during his previous life. He had some scars, but somehow he knew they were from Quidditch training, rather than any kind of abuse.
Harry emerged a short time later to find Neville waiting for him. “Good to go?”
“Yeah,” Harry replied, it was only then he realised they were one bed short. He recognised Sheamus and Dean’s personal effects, so that left him with one conclusion.
“Where’s Ron’s bed?”
Neville raised an eyebrow. “Ron?”
“Yeah, Ron Weasley, tall, red-head, eats like a caveman?” Harry said, describing his friend.
Neville shook his head slowly. “Sorry mate, I have no idea what you’re talking about. We’ve never had a fifth dorm mate. It’s just you, me, Sheamus, and Dean. There aren’t even any Weasley’s at Hogwarts. I think a couple of Weasley kids graduated like a year or two before we started, but I don’t think they have any other kids. At least not any that are our age.”
Harry walked to the window and rubbed his face. “Neville, how long have we been friends?”
“Harry, is this another prank? Is Sirius trying to prank me again? Because the last time he did that, Mom yelled at him for a full twenty minutes afterwards…”
Harry shook his head. “No, I’m being serious, please, answer the question.”
“Mate, we’ve been friends since we were babies, we grew up together. What’s wrong? You’re acting weird this morning,” Neville asked, starting to sound concerned.
“This… is going to sound insane, but I promise I’m telling the truth.”
“Ok,” Neville replied.
“I’m not the Harry Potter you grew up with, I’m from a different world…” Harry explained, giving Neville the potted highlights of his life, from his parents being murdered to his death. “I was given another chance by someone on the other side. Your Harry said he was living with a time bomb in his chest, but he didn’t elaborate.”
Neville was quiet for a few moments before speaking. “So, it happened…”
“You know what he meant?” Harry asked.
Neville nodded, walking over to stand beside Harry and lean on the windowsill. “Assuming this isn’t an elaborate prank? Yeah. Harry had a… what’s the word… congenital heart condition, that’s what your mum said. It meant your heart didn’t work right, and there was nothing muggles science or magic could do to fix it. So, Harry was always living on borrowed time. But your Mum and Dad didn’t tell us until a couple of years ago. They wanted Harry to have a normal childhood. At least that’s what they told Harry.”
“I can’t imagine he took that well, I know I wouldn’t have.”
“There was a lot of yelling,” Neville replied.
“I guess he got over it, he seemed pretty chill when we met.”
“He found ways to cope…” Neville said.
“What does that mean?” Harry asked.
“Uh, you’ll see.”
“Oh Kay…” Harry said, as a slight uneasy feeling settled in his stomach.
“Come on, we can still catch the tail end of breakfast if we hurry.”
“I bet Hermione is sick of waiting for us by now,” Harry commented absently.
“Hermione? Oh, Granger, uh, why would she be waiting for us?”
“She’s… she was a fellow Gryffindor, where I come from. I guess things are a bit different here.”
“Yeah, a bit,” Neville replied.
“I didn’t think Voldemort not being around would change that much, pretty stupid, really.”
“Who?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Harry replied.
Neville nodded, but seemed lost in thought as they walked downstairs to the Gryffindor common room. Harry let out a breath of relief. “At least this is still the same.”
The two left Gryffindor and made their way downstairs. As they walked, Neville seemed lost in thought. Harry glanced at him. “You ok, Nev?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. I’m just trying to place that name, Voldemort?” Neville asked.
“Yeah, that wasn’t his real name of course, he was born Tom Marvolo Riddle, it’s an anagram.”
Neville snapped his fingers as realisation dawned on his face. “That’s it, now I remember. That’s who Dumbledore died fighting in the seventies.”
Harry slowed to a stop while Neville continued for a few steps. “Wait, what?”
Neville turned around, looking up at his best friend as the staircases moved around them. “Yeah, apparently Riddle came back to England to apply for a teaching role. But Dumbledore sensed the evil in his heart, or some nonsense, and they had a big battle in Hogsmeade. He felled Riddle, but was so badly injured in the battle that he died a few days later. His whole plan to gather an army and topple the government so he could rule the world was only discovered later when all his mates were rounded up. We’ve been told that story since we were babies, it’s on Dumbledore’s chocolate frog card and everything,” Neville explained.
“It’s a bit daft to try and take on the Wizengamot and the Ministry though, isn’t it, they’ve got Mad Eye and Amelia Bones, even back then they were scary.” He added as an afterthought.
Harry looked away for a second, trying to control his breathing. “It’s not daft Nev, that’s what happened in my world. A lot of people died in the first war and a lot more died in the second. I let a lot of people down, because I couldn’t stop him…”
“Fuck… sorry mate,” Neville commented quietly.
“It doesn’t matter now, let’s keep going,” Harry replied. He walked down a few steps but stopped again. “What year is it?”
“Nineteen ninety seven, Saturday, September twenty seventh, if you want to be precise,” Neville answered.
“So, we’re in our last year at Hogwarts?”
Neville barked out a laugh. “I wish, fourth year, mate. We started Hogwarts a few weeks after our fourteenth birthdays.”
Harry let out a low whistle. “I started when I was eleven, in ninety one, in my timeline.”
“Who the hell thinks it’s a good idea to give an eleven year old a fully functioning wand?” Neville asked incredulously.
Harry shrugged. “Search me… So, I’m ahead of you magically speaking?” Harry said with a grin.
Neville rolled his eyes. “You might be if you ever applied yourself in class, instead of chasing skirts.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry asked.
“Harry, you are my best friend, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to call you out for behaving like a prat the last couple of years. I know that’s not your fault, or entirely his. He just…” Neville paused on the stairs, turning to face Harry. “After your mum and dad told him about his diagnosis, he started acting out. He did a lot of dumb shit because he knew he didn’t have long to live. And he stopped caring about school work. You’re going to have to do a lot to try and pull your grades out of the toilet this year, it’s only because the teachers know you’re capable of more that you weren’t held back at the end of last year. If this isn’t a massive prank anyway.”
“Super…” Harry muttered, he glanced at his best friend questioningly. “You still don’t entirely believe me?”
“I mostly believe you, you’re not that good of an actor, Potter,” Neville explained, earning a punch in the arm from Harry. “Hey, I thought you wanted me to believe you?”
“I do, impositions on my character aren’t warranted though. What can I do to convince you?”
“We can go see Madam Pomfrey, she can run the usual test. Maybe there will be some sort of sign that the heart defect is gone.”
“After breakfast?” Harry asked.
“It’s a date,” Neville agreed as the two began the final leg to the Great Hall.
To be continued…