Disclaimer: My work is in no way affiliated with the author herself. Purely a fictional account of a fiction.

Chapter One

Nineteen and half years later

When Harry Potter – the man who used to be the boy who lived – opened his eyes to what he expected was another ordinary morning, he was in for a big surprise. It was very much like the time when he was invited to dinner at George's. He was offered a drink (which he was too polite to refuse, despite its mysterious bubbling nature) and the next thing he knew - for Merlin's sake - he was straddling George's neighbour's lawn ornament. Though he had to admit, that was a rather impressive sculpture of a stallion. What the concoction made him think he was; Harry never wanted to know. That sentiment was further exacerbated by the hideous hat with the giant feather sticking out of it that had somehow found its place on his head.

Harry looked to his left and then to his right. Apart from trees and more trees he found that his surroundings lacked other discernible features. He crossed his arms and slumped onto a tree stump that he didn't even realize was there and thought hard. Was he invited to another of George and Angelina's dinner parties? Harry shook his head, more to himself than anything, as he recalled the last memory he had before his present predicament.

It was about a new broom. For Quidditch. Though Harry no longer fancied daydreams of becoming a professional Quidditch player, the passion for the game was still strong. He hardly missed any inter-department Quidditch matches if he could. In fact, there was another one in a fortnight and that served as perfect reasoning for acquiring a new broom. A perfectly reasonable expenditure in his opinion, not to mention he had been using the same 'Game Broom' for two years, which unfortunately was one notion that his wife did not share.

The difference in opinions had surfaced during dinner and had not been resolved by bedtime, evident by how Ginny had stiffened instead of reciprocating when Harry gave her the routine peck on the cheek before sleep.

Harry made a mental reminder to himself to get some flowers for Ginny later on.

"Your idea of peace offering is hardly original."

Harry was brutally jerked out of his thoughts when warm breath brushed against the contour of his ear. He had jumped and would have fallen to the ground ungraciously if he didn't have the reflex to scramble for a grip on tree stump. "Who!" He snapped his head around but saw no one.

"Name bears no meaning for my existence." With his face still turned backward, Harry caught a glimpse of burgundy through the corner of one eye. It was a rich, silky colour in contrast with all the green of the surrounding. Harry suddenly realized he was actually wearing his pajamas – quite belatedly - but that was hardly a matter of concern at the moment. Harry righted himself as best as he could on a tree stump and met the gaze of the woman clad in burgundy.

"I suppose, by that remark, there's no point in asking who you might be. I am Harry Potter." Harry placed both hands on his knees and resisted the itch in his fingers to start twitching, trying to convey an image of nonchalance.

"I know you." She clicked her tongue. "You are Harry Potter. The boy who lived and defeated the Dark Lord."

Harry took a long, hard look at her. The woman had fine, delicate features and…she looked quite sane. Well, apart from the dress that looked more proper for an evening function than a stroll in the forest; and judging from the toes that peeped from under the hem of her long sweeping dress, she was also apparently barefooted. Voldemort was rarely spoken of now, and though there was no reverence in her voice, Harry couldn't help but wonder if she was one of those fanatics who had not allowed the downfall of the Dark Lord nearly two decades ago to deter their obsession with him.

But Harry had to admit, even if she were one of them, he wouldn't exactly be surprised. She wouldn't be the first and not likely the last. Harry had experienced several attempts on his life, though the numbers had gradually dwindled over the years. He wondered why some people were still obsessed with Voldemort when his reign of terror had been so long ago, and was spoken more in past tense than present.

"The Dark Lord is of utmost interest to me but obsession is too drastic a word."

Harry inhaled deeply and tried to empty his mind of thoughts but then he thought better of it. He had never gotten better in Occlumency over the years anyway. "Do you mean me harm?"

"Aren't you a blunt one? If I said no, would you believe me?"

"There's no reason to think otherwise, I have been relatively safe and unharmed so far. I hope to keep it that way as I expect myself to be home to my wife and child by evening. I have decided to bring my wife flowers today and maybe help with the cooking. We have had some disagreements which you might already be aware of." As Harry spoke, he observed the woman's expression for any hint of emotion. If there was sympathy, chances were he would be home tonight. On the other hand, a sneer or a patronizing countenance might very well translate into something painful on Harry's part. However, on this account, Harry could detect nothing from her demeanor. She was simply serene.

"You are no longer going home to the home you've come to know."

The sound of rustling leaves tickled his ears. Harry resisted shrugging his shoulders. He knew not what to think of, so he sighed. He took one long breath and exhaled. He flexed his fingers. Harry knew he should be filled with dread, fear, anger or somethingappropriate but the truth was he could only sigh. Then he sighed again. It might have to do with how serene she looked, making it difficult for him to envision her putting him through a painful death. Then, it might be because deep down, after going through so many traumatic experiences as a child, he never really believed his future was secure or his contentment would last.

Grasping and then losing all things precious in life had been a norm for Harry. Even the complacence of nearly two decades never did diminish the suspicion that nothing lasted for him.

"You are not going to die. And, nothing painful will happen to you, not now and I hope not for a very long time." She tilted her head to one side thoughtfully. "Then again your history with pain and suffering is not very reassuring."

"Let's get this over with."

She nodded. "Yes." She extended her hand at him. Harry tried not to flinch.

Then the tip of her fingers touched his forehead and darkness overcame him.

A/N: I have yet decided the direction that this story will take. The plot and its various branches have been brewing in my head for more than a year and I've become so obsessed with it that I find myself unable to move on to other projects. I simply have to write it down and be done with it.

*At the moment, the story will involve time travelling; resurrection of various dead characters central to the plot; introduction of an original female character whose appearance I'll strictly limit to avoid developing a Mary-Sue; Harry who will be 'doing' Voldemort and other couples as secondary pairings*