"All of our actions, no matter how small, have a consequence...somewhere, somehow."
Disclaimer—I own absolutely no rights to HP at all and am purely writing this for my own joy, and hopefully a few readers as well, only.
Chapter One—A Dead World
Sweat dripped down his brow, mixing with the tears that he refused to acknowledge has he stabbed viciously at the earth again with his shovel.
The summer heat and a rare drought had left the ground hard—difficult to dig graves in.
There was a fantastical sunset that would have been beautiful had he been able to appreciate it. The dying rays of light glanced off of the pond a little ways off and the pile of ashes where a crooked house had once sat not too long ago.
He ran an unsteady hand over his hair, more out of habit than actual need. It wasn't as if he would be seeing anyone to flatten it for, but he still did it anyways.
"...old seasons pass slow...it is my time to go..." Harry's poor singing stumbled has his breath hitched, a pain in his side from the sob caught in his throat that he would no release.
The first time he had heard the old tune had been at Remus's funeral, so many years ago. They had all sung it together then, tears dripping down onto their black mourning clothes as they sang the a wizard's last song. A song that had been so part of their culture it had almost turned into folk lore, the folk lore of a culture so ravaged by war it had hardly anything left to give.
Harry hadn't known the words then, he hadn't even made an effort to pretend he did has everyone else sung it around him. He had been too preoccupied with the casket they were lowering into the ground and with who was in it. It hadn't been until many burials later that he could recite every lyric.
"...give the magic back...every soul's price..." He tried to dig deeper into the soil, his voice just a broken whisper has he sang slowly and out of tune, taking long pauses between the verses.
He took a deep shaky breath. "...until we meet again... under the old tree...just l—lay m—me..." He finally gave into his grief and fell to his knees, the shovel falling beside him. Breaking down into racking sobs he sat hunched over the whole he had made for some time, his tears flowing into it.
The ten headstones around him stared back at him, unmoving and as always with nothing to say but a hollow epitaph written hastily in the middle of a war.
OoOoOo
It was still early in the morning and Harry lay deep asleep in Hagrid's hut near the edge of the forrest. It hadn't been Hagrids for some time but he still thought of it that way. He himself had lived there for a little over a year.
Blearily opening his eyes he decided just to lay there for a few more minutes. Often in those times between deep sleep and full wakefulness he could pretend that everything was alright and that he would find a very different world awaiting him when he woke instead of the reality he had.
Finally he groggily climbed out of the cot and walked over to the stove to begin making a small breakfast. He didn't bother with shaving or attempting to brush his hair, like most of his days he wouldn't see anyone living anyways, so he didn't see the point.
He walked outside after eating and made his way to Hogsmeade, nothing but a ghost town in the aftermath of the war.
Still, after only a year it did have the supplies he needed. He never stayed long though, it was too painful of a reminder to see it so deadened and overgrown as if people had never lived there at all.
It was a beautiful day, clearer and cooler than it's recent predecessors but with the certain zeal summer always carried.
Returning to the school, Harry pushed open the bent, damaged iron gate and strode up the path. He knew he could have just apparated in, but sometimes he liked to pretend the wards were still intact.
It would always feel wrong to him to apparate in Hogwarts, even if it had become entirely possible.
It was peaceful, except for all of the haunting memories, and more quiet than it had ever been. He entered the school through the door in the east side, the main entrance was entirely collapsed, and kept walking toward his destination.
The gargoyle had long been destroyed and there was no need for a password anymore, he simply walked up the spiral stairs into the old office that held so much history.
Professor Dumbledore, or his portrait at least, looked disappointed to see him. He always was.
"Harry," he commented sadly, the one word conveying a whole conversations worth of expression.
"Headmaster."
Albus smiled tiredly, grief lining his face even in the portrait, "You are not a school boy any longer, call me Albus."
Harry nodded, the headmaster had requested that of him every visit but he never did change. It would be like admitting that times had changed and that when he left the room Hermione and Ron would not be waiting for him in the Gryffindor Common room, and that was something he did not want to remember.
"I finally finished rebuilding the quidditch pitch." Harry said, staring down at his hands as he took his customary seat in the chair facing the portrait.
"Good, I hope some day more children can enjoy them." Albus commented quietly, the rest of the portraits were always tactful enough to leave the two of them alone during their chats with each other.
"Me too," Harry answered quietly.
They stared at each other a moment before Albus began delicately, "Have you given any thought to what I told you—"
Harry interrupted him, "About leaving you mean?"
Albus sighed, "I do not think you will find happiness here Harry, you need to start anew."
"I don't want to talk about it." He replied tersely.
"Harry—"
"I don't want to—"
Albus interrupted, actually seeming flustered for once. "You're just turned nineteen, you have your whole life ahead of you! Don't squander it by dwelling on the past."
"I'm not squandering it!" Harry snapped back.
"What do you call this then? Coming in here and spending your days with only the company of a dead man's portrait—"
"WHAT WOULD YOU KNOW!" Harry exploded, his hands clenched into fists.
"ALL YOU DID WAS FUCK UP AND DIE, LEFT THE REST OF US TO GO TO HELL AND BACK—AND FOR WHAT?" He took a step back breathing heavily.
Dumbledore looked at him sadly, for the first time lost for words.
"Good day headmaster," he muttered, turning on his heel and leaving the room before Dumbledore could even try to say anything else.
He walked without thinking and found his feet leading him to the library. He could have laughed had it not hurt so much, he had been wishing for Hermione's advice after-all. How fitting that his mind had led him there. She had always been the older sister he had never had, and he wasn't sure what to do anymore without her guidance.
The books had never been re-stacked and thousands of them lay in a heaping mess about the floor amongst collapsed book shelves that had once towered above him.
He walked through the pile, unable to stop himself from stepping on a few books with how crowded the floor was.
He reached down with a sad smile and picked up Hogwarts A History, where it was laying amongst the mess, fond memories coming back to him. He remembered Hermione's smile, so big he had been sure if would crack her face in half, when Ron had recited the introduction of it at their wedding.
It hadn't been a real wedding, not really. It had just been the three of them in an old abandoned church, both their parents had been dead by that point and there hadn't been time to try to find Ron's remaining brothers. So it had just been Harry acting as the sole witness while his two best friends stood at the alter and pledged to love each other all their lives.
They had honored that promise, even if it had only been for six months until they died together—trying to save him. In his mind they were as married as any couple had ever been.
He swallowed, feeling something bitter rising in him. Ron and Hermione should have had decades together. The should have had little red haired children with buck teeth who could recite books at the age of three and loved the cannons. He would have been the godfather he was sure.
They all would have had lunch at Molly and Arthur's house on Sundays.
The twins would have made all kinds of inappropriate jokes, Percy would have lectured anyone who would listen, Charlie would have showed off his newest burn marks while Bill and Fleur would have kept doing disgustingly mushy things and Ron's little sister Ginny—well he wasn't sure what she would have done, but regardless it all would have been perfect at that lunch. That he was sure of.
He put the book down, looking sadly around and walking further into the room until he reached the window that showed the view out over the grounds.
There was a book sitting there, on the window sill as if it had been placed there with the utmost care. He picked it up curiously, noting it's plain black binding that held no title.
Opening he read on the cover page,
Traveling Dimensions
The Journal of Herbert William Scott
His brow furrowed has he took in the description. He had certainly never come across that book in the library before.
He looked back out across the grounds over to where his favorite tree was by the lake. Taking in the nice day for the first time in a long time, Harry made the trek of the castle and sat down on the edge of the water, book in hand and ready to read.
OoOoOo
Harry didn't leave the tree for hours, it was late into the night that he finally burst back into the headmaster's office.
"Did you know about this?" Harry demanded, holding up the book in front of Albus's portrait.
He didn't give the headmaster a chance to respond has he paced in front of the portrait.
"How could you let me live like this, if this book is real, if this is possible..." Harry trailed off, a slightly crazed look in his eyes.
"Harry that magic is dan—"
"Oh and fighting Voldemort has a bloody teenager was safe?" He asked derisively, stopping finally to face Albus.
Albus sighed, "Harry this is not the answer. Leave this place Harry...find a new home somewhere. Don't try this. I fear it will only bring you more pain."
Harry however wasn't really listening. "You might be a portrait, but you're still brilliant. I want you to help me with this Albus," he said, using the headmaster's first name for the first time.
"Harry—" He began to protest.
"You owe me this much." Harry hissed, glaring up at the portrait.
They stared at each other a long time.
"If this doesn't kill you Harry—it still won't be a clean slate. You read the entire journal?"
"Yes."
Albus nodded, "I believe Mr. Scott was correct in that one can only go to a dimension where they either were never born or for some reason never existed. There is no way of knowing what kind of world you might enter Harry, it could be worse than this one."
"Nothing can be worse than this one," Harry refuted stubbornly.
Albus shook his head, "I also believe Mr. Scott was correct in that one is sent to a dimension where they are needed. Where a purpose they were supposed to fulfill is still required of them in either world...you know what that purpose would be for you."
"What, is that all I'm ever good for?" Harry asked bitterly.
Albus looked at him sadly, "You do have a destiny Harry, leaving this world will not allow you to escape it I suspect. Only repeat it."
"I don't care," Harry replied.
"I'll face him again, I don't care. I don't...I just...I have to see them again...all of them." He said, the previous anger gone has he simply looked exhausted, like a defeated man.
Albus paused, something in his demeanor changing from absolutely against to considering.
"It is a possibility that your knowledge of this world might make little difference in that one, if it is as different from here as it could be."
"I know, but at least I can take the knowledge I do have with me. Even if the horcruxes are different, I'll still have all the magic I learned." He said earnestly.
"You forget Harry, I'm not merely mentioning the horcruxes," he said.
"Then what do you mean?" Harry asked tiredly.
"The people Harry. They might not be who you are looking for, they could be entirely different, they might not be there at all."
Harry sat down in his chair, thinking a long time before he responded.
"Well they certainly aren't here, and I'd rather at least try."
OoOoOo
Harry hadn't been back to the burrow since he finished with the last grave. It was too sad to see the ashes of where he once called home and the tombstones of those he had called his family.
Albus had told him to take a week to think it over more, he had told Harry that he wanted him to be certain in whatever choice he made before he would offer any aid with the magic.
And he would need aid, it was more complex than any magic he had ever seen before.
He was almost at the end of the week however and yet still hadn't found the conviction he was looking for.
He walked up the hill to where the ten tomb stones rested.
"Hello," he said, a little breathlessly and unsure of what to do.
He dropped to his knees, kneeling in the grass in front of Ron and Hermione's.
"I—I um, I really miss you. All of you," he said, looking at the other graves as well.
"I wish I could...I wish you could tell me what to do now—because I really don't know."
He was silent a while, "Is it even worth it? Even if everything goes perfect, which it probably won't, I mean, it's me after-all—since when have I ever been lucky," he laughed bitterly.
"Even then...it still won't be you...I mean it will be, but it will be some other you. You'll still be here, and I still will have failed all of you and, how will it even matter?" He frustratedly, tearing some grass from the ground with a clenched fist.
He sighed, placing his head in his hands.
"I can't save you...any of you..." he repeatedly brokenly. He looked over at his wand, something he had considered many times coming once again to the forefront of his mind.
"Maybe I should just join you."
But just like every other time he thought of suicide he stopped. Thoughts of how many people had had their lives torn away kept him from taking his own, it would be a dishonor to them even though it was so often his greatest wish.
He looked at Ron's grave. "I wonder if the other you can play chess has well?" He asked, a watery smile on his face.
He sat there, looking at them all and reading the epitaphs,most of which he had had to write himself in the absence of anyone else.
"They won't be you," he concluded sadly, speaking his thoughts out loud.
"But...maybe I can help them. I'm not doing anything here anymore. Even if they're not you, maybe I can save them. Keep this—" He gestured toward all the graves, "—from happening to them."
He stood, ready to face Albus. "I—I think it's worth trying." He explained, looking at them one last time as he walked away.
He paused though, a hesitation he could not explain has he came to the oldest one.
Ginevra M. Weasley
Beloved Daughter and Sister
August 13 1981—July 7 1995
May she find the wings in heaven that she searched for in life.
Mr. Weasley had written the last statement. Harry remembered Molly how had been too distraught to even think of funeral arrangements. She had sat there in a defeated state, unbelieving at the violent manner her youngest child had been ripped from her arms with.
Harry had always thought Ginny was a silly little girl, the way was charmed by Tom Riddle and how she blushed and stuttered around him when she had never even known him, only the legend of the 'boy who lived.'
He hadn't really known her either though, he conceded, looking down at her grave. All he had really known about her was who her family was it seemed, when he tried to argue with himself he could think of no other real facts about her. To him she had always been 'Ron's little sister.'
He would never however forget the guilt he had felt though when he learned she died at Diagon Alley during the first attack of the Dark Lord's new reign, while trying to buy him a birthday present. He the boy who saw her as 'Ron's little sister,' and nothing more than a minor, blushing annoyance.
And although he had never been friends with her, standing there staring at her grave, he felt more than ever a sense that he had to try to find this new world. The old one really did have nothing left for him any longer.
Please Review.
I have been writing on and off on this story for a while and have finally decided to post it. It will not be my priority for a while (at least not until A Different Kind of Brother is finished) but I will try to update has much as I can. Many of the chapters are already written but they do need some editing that I'm working on and I want to make sure that each chapter is what I really want before I do post it. Please let me know what you think so far.