Prologue

"Never trust a fairy," Lupin once told him, slamming a mug of Butterbeer down as he did. "And if you must, be careful what you wish for. Twisted creatures, fairies."

Harry surprised himself by remembering. It had been years ago, three to be exact, when Lupin decided to sputter out that piece of random, and at the time, useless advice. After all, when would he run across a fairy? They weren't talked about for a reason. Most of them were long dead, hunted and killed by Aurors for the trouble they caused, long ago.

A few survived, it seemed, because Harry blinked at a glowing blue light which radiated from a small, fluttering body. Tiny sliver wings buzzed, but not in the same annoying way of insects. The sight stopped him in his tracks, though his mind urged him to keep running, his body stayed glued to where he was, mystified, but still panting for breath.

"Harry Potter," the fairy said, its voice sounding strangely loud for its size. "You're in mortal danger."

"Oh really? What gave it away?" Sarcasm a second nature, Harry didn't think twice about mouthing off, not even to a fairy.

He could hear Death Eaters growing nearer, howling laughter and sounds of needless destruction assaulting his ears, making his head pound with the rapid beating of his heart. Harry never thought it'd end like this. With Voldemort taking control of Hogwarts, of the Ministry, and himself running through the Forbidden Forest for survival. Everything happened too fast.

"You need my help," the fairy flew higher, Harry looked up to meet its blue eyes. "The darkness has won. You will be killed soon."

"And you can change that? How?" Harry spat out blood as well as words, his earned injuries finally beginning to catch up with him. A gash above his right eye, a pain shooting up and down one of his legs, an ache in his ribcage. Running wasn't an option anymore.

It was over. The Boy who Lived was dead.

"Three wishes," she said, pleasantly. "Whatever you like."

"And the price for your help?" Talking was becoming increasingly painful. He barely managed, raspy words forced between gritted teeth.

"All you have to do is trust me."

Harry looked at her with a defying glare, but nodded his head with agreement anyway. He knew it was a trick. Had to be, but trick or not, he didn't have anything left to lose. He imagined Remus Lupin turning over in his shallow grave…

"Very well," she said, a wand appearing in her hand. "What do you need?"

Various deaths hit Harry's thoughts. Could fairies violate magical laws? Could their magic bring someone back from the dead? Somewhere in the distance Bellatrix Lestrange called for him and he was brought back into reality. If he were going to think carefully about his wishes, he needed time.

"Getting out of here would be appreciated," he said. He closed his eyes and waited for all the unpleasant sensations he got while Apparating, but they never came. When he opened them he was still in the Forbidden Forest, the Fairy smiling down at him in an irritating sort of way.

"Any day now," he urged, his eyes darting around the forest, searching for signs of Death Eaters.

"I'm waiting for your next two wishes," she said, as though the answer were simple.

"Can't you just grant the first wish, and then the other two when we arrive?"

"No," she said. "Your results will be much better if you make all three at the same time."

"I'm beginning to understand why your kind was hunted into extinction," said Harry, dryly, but the Fairy didn't seem phased. Harry, however, felt a sudden wave of terror. A Death Eater yelled, he had been spotted. "Fine… I… I wish to win this war!"

The Fairy nodded, "One more."

"And I want to see my parents… to meet them!" Harry added the last part in desperation. He'd watched enough of those cheesy Muggle movies when hiding in the non-magical world with Sirius to know details mattered when it came to these kind of deals.

"Your wishes are granted," she told him, and with a pop she disappeared.

Harry flinched at the shock, stumbling back on his bad leg and falling on the ground. The Fairy was gone and he was alone in the forest once more. Looking wildly in all directions, his green eyes grew wide before narrowing into slits of hatred. A few feet into the distance Lord Voldemort stood, laughing.

An odd sensation began to spread through Harry, and as it did, the spine curling laughter stopped mid-pitch, turning into a choke of anger. Harry's body was dissolving into specs of twinkling blue light. Smirking madly, he let out a taunting noise as other Death Eaters began to appear through the trees.

"You lose, Riddle," he said. "Better luck next time!"

As much as Harry wanted to able to stick around and see Voldemort's reaction, the Fairy's magic pulled at him, tossing him into a vortex of swirling colors. It felt a lot like falling, but he didn't have time to get used to it. Moments later he was back on the ground in the Forbidden Forest, this time, utterly alone.

Nine Years Earlier

"But why?"

"Because," said Sirius and then continued with a much gentler voice. "Because Harry Potter is your secret name. You must never tell anyone who doesn't already know."

A five-year-old Harry crinkled his face as he tried to understand. He sat at the kitchen table and watched as Sirius made breakfast before his first day at a Muggle primary school. Suddenly, he felt very sad.

"Is it because what happened to mum and dad?"

Sirius stopped in mid-stir and turned around to look at Harry. "Yes, Harry. I'm afraid it is. You see, you can't use your real name because bad people might find us, do you understand?"

He nodded his head.

"Good," he pulled a plate down from one of the cabinets, beginning to pile an assortment of eggs, pancakes, and bacon. "Now let's run through this one more time."

"My name is Matthew Mills, age 5, born June 21st. I live with my godfather Sam because my parents were killed in a car crash when I was a baby." Harry recited the story in one breath causing Sirius to beam proudly.

He placed a plate in front of him. "Excellent. No one will ever find us."

Present Day

Harry blinked several times, expecting either a reappearance of Voldemort or a change of scenery, but when he was ready to keep his eyes open, he was still alone in the Forbidden Forest. But not completely alone. Not anymore, at least. He kept his eyes trained on a small figure coming into his view. Strangely, he didn't feel threatened, because strangely, whoever was approaching did so with a skip.

He stayed put on the ground as he watched. His leg ached too badly to move and the rest of his body was exhausted. As the figure skipped a little bit closer, Harry could hear her humming and could see her silver hair streaked with shining blue stripes.

"There you are!" she said. "I must have transported myself off target… just a little. I'm still working on that!"

Harry stared at her dumbly, getting some idea as to her identity. "And you are?"

She giggled. "I'm your fairy, remember?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Fairies are annoying little flying insects. You're just a child."

"Uh-huh," she said. "But a fairy one. I changed forms, you see. That other form – that's just for introductions. If I appeared before wizards in times of trouble looking like this, well they wouldn't take me very seriously."

He raised his eyebrow at her. He didn't imagine wizards would take her seriously in the other form, either, with the reputation of fairies, but he didn't mention it.

"Screwed up, huh?" Harry asked. "Where did you send Voldemort and the Death Eaters?"

Instead of being offended, she smiled. "I did not screw up. They are right where we left them."

Somewhere in the distance, something howled madly and for a moment Harry thought it might have sounded familiar, before shaking himself out of it and refocusing his attention back on his current conversation.

"In the Forbidden Forest?"

"Yes."

"But we're in the Forbidden Forest."

"Yes," she said, simply. "A different one."

"What do you mean, a different one?" Harry felt the bottom of his stomach sinking, realizing.

"A different forest in a different dimension," she explained. She titled her head. "Did you think yours was the only one?"

Harry felt angry and loss all at the same time. What would the Order of the Phoenix do in his world without him? Would Ron and Hermione think he had abandoned them? Or would Voldemort simply tell everyone he had killed him? Back in his old world, he might as well be dead. Returning from a different dimension sounded unlikely.

"I suppose threatening to curse you until you took me home wouldn't do any good?"

"Nope," she said, "And why would you want to? Everything you wished for is right here…"

That almost certainly meant his parents were alive here, but it didn't make Harry feel excited to meet them. The James and Lily Potter of this world weren't his parents, they were some other Harry's parents. In fact, how would he meet them at all? Looking so much like someone they already knew?

"Don't worry about that," she said, seemingly reading his thoughts. "I can change your appearance, at least for a while."

"Fine," he said. "But don't touch my hair…"

Years ago Sirius had tried to turn his hair blonde to further hide his identity, but the result was so laughable Harry yelled at him until he gave in and put it back to normal. After that, Harry wouldn't let anyone come at him with a glamour and anyone who did was left wishing they hadn't.

"All done. Here," she tossed a mirror to him, appearing it from nowhere. "Have a look."

She had done as he asked and left his hair alone, but he still couldn't help to feel a little sad to see ordinary blue eyes staring back at him through the mirror. There wasn't any trace of James Potter in his face, either, making Harry suddenly feel like a traitor.

"The spell will last as long as your identity remains hidden." She stepped away from him several inches as another howl sounded, loudly this time. "This is where I leave you. Good luck, Harry Potter!"

"Wait!" said Harry. There was one piece of information he needed from her before she disappeared again. "Tell me your name."

"Ophelia, the blue fairy," she said it with a smile. Moments later, she was gone.

And for the third time that evening, he was alone in the forest. He looked at his useless leg, unable to remember who had casted the jinx which may have broken a bone, and cursed his luck under his breath. Out of one scrap and into another…

Three Years Earlier

"Do it, Harry," said Sirius, a bit madly. He paced back and forth in the Shrieking Shack, his wand pointed squarely at a chubby man cowering in the middle of the room.

Harry gripped his own wand in his hand so tightly it began to feel slippery from sweat. His eyes went from Peter Pettigrew to Sirius, and then finally landed pleadingly on Remus Lupin, who stood off to the side, leaning against the wall. If anyone would understand his hesitance to cast an Unforgivable, it'd be him.

"Hurry up," said Sirius, anger burning behind his eyes. Harry couldn't ever remember him looking that way and it was beginning to scare him.

"Sirius," Lupin interrupted, at last. "He's only a third year… perhaps it's too soon for him to learn such advanced –"

"-Not for James's son," Sirius barked out. "He can do it. Harry, watch me." Pettigrew let out a scared whimper and Sirius raised his wand. "Crucio!

A gut wrenching scream filled the air as a red beam of light struck Pettigrew. He continued to scream, and Harry felt sick to his stomach.

"Stop," he said, quietly at first. "Stop! STOP IT!"

Sirius ended the curse, momentarily lowering his wand and looking at Harry with surprise. "Don't you understand what this man has done? He got my best friend – your parents killed!"

He didn't get a chance to respond to his godfather. Pettigrew transformed back into the rat he was, dodging various beams of light from Remus and Sirius before disappearing into a hole in the wall, and Harry let out a sigh of relief.

Present Day

He recognized the howling with a new horror the next time he heard it. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his leg, he crawled to a nearby tree truck to at least make himself less visible. He wondered if this would do any good. Did Werewolves rely on sight or smell? Harry had a bad feeling it was the latter.

With a new sense of urgency, Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at his leg, scrunching up his face in concentration. He tried without success to remember the healing spells Hermione had taught him back in fourth year, deciding he better not attempt one. The last thing he needed was to suffer the effects of a blotched healing spell.

The werewolf was in sight now, coming at him with an angry snarl and at full speed. He was two feet away when a great, black dog collided with him from his side and chasing him away from Harry. Just as he was about to smile at his escape from sure death, he saw a wand being pointed at him from the corner of his eye.

He wiped his head around sharply and felt an instant rush of white hot anger. Peter Pettigrew stood over him with his wand out and ready. After taking a deep breath, Harry swallowed his angry feelings, realizing this Pettigrew, who even seemed a little taller and a little slimmer than the one from his world, wouldn't understand. He made himself seem unconcerned or even bored by the older wizard's presence.

"A little help here," said Harry, impatiently. He indicated to his various battle injuries. "Or are you just going to let me quietly bleed to death?"

Pettigrew narrowed his eyes with distrust and refused to lower his wand.

"Wormtail!"

Harry's heart jumped at the unfamiliar but recognizable voice of James Potter.

"Over here!" Pettigrew called, without looking away from Harry, who was mentally preparing himself for the reappearance of his long dead father. Only a few seconds later, James Potter jogged into view.

He looked older than the man who danced with his mother in the photographs Harry had from their wedding, but it wasn't with wrinkles or receding hair lines. His dad looked aged with experience, keeping the messy jet black hair he remembered from Snape's memory but somehow appearing wiser all the same.

James did a double-take. "What happened to you? It wasn't –"

"No," Peter answered before he had finished asking the question. "Sirius got here right on time."

"Oh, good," said James, scratching his head while he examined Harry and his injuries from where he stood, several feet away.

"Would you mind," said Harry, addressing Pettigrew. He began to feel severely uncomfortable. "Lowering your wand? I'm outnumbered and injured, and I'm still a threat?"

"You're an unknown on Hogwarts grounds, during a war," said Pettigrew, darkly.

"Could be a student," said Harry.

"You're not."

"Matthew Mills, sixth year, Gryffindor," He recited his fake identity just as Sirius taught him so many years ago, technically only lying about his name. He grinned as Peter faltered, shuffling his feet and stepping backwards.

"You're no student," said James. "I've never heard of any Mills at Hogwarts…"

"Yeah? Just because –"

"I can tell when I'm being lied to."

"Fine," said Harry, giving up easily partly because learning the truth would be as simple as looking at school records and partly because of his exhaustion. "I'm not a student. At least not at this Hogwarts."

"What do you mean not this Hogwarts?" Peter hissed out.

"I'd love to explain all the messy details to you," said Harry. "But I'm afraid it wouldn't do any good. Your small brain would be incapable of comprehending." James suppressed a laugh while Peter, used to jokes being made at his expense, seemed unaffected. "Get Dumbledore. He'd understand. I need to speak with Dumbledore."

It was as though Harry had said something very nasty. In one swift fluid movement James had his wand pointed at him as well and Peter straightened his arm out, a renewed confidence in his convictions. With an equally puzzled and angry look back at the men, Harry wondered just what kind of demented universe the fairy had landed him into…

1 Year Earlier

"I killed Sirius Black! I killed Sirius Black!"

Her shrill and mocking calls propelled Harry forward. He ran at a speed he didn't think was possible, fueled by hatred and a desire for revenge. The same desire which drove Sirius the last fourteen years of his life, an overwhelming, not quite logical, need to hurt someone. But not just anyone.

He turned the corner and saw her. Bellatrix was no longer running. She stood to face him with grin which stretched across her entire face. Harry struck so quickly she didn't have a chance to raise her wand.

"Crucio!"

Bellatrix fell with a shriek. She withered on the ground in agony, twisting in impossible directions while Harry watched with satisfaction, finally understanding Sirius, though he was now gone.

Present Day

"Are you working for Dumbledore?" James questioned, his voice notably deeper than it had been when he first spoke. His wand pushed closer to Harry's face.

"Well, I wouldn't call it working for him, exactly."

"No? And what would you call it?"

Harry thought better of answering that particular question. Every time he opened his mouth, he seemed to dig a bigger hole. Instead, he stuck with something a little bit safer.

"I need to speak with the Headmaster," he repeated, leaving Dumbledore's name out of it this time, "Er, what's his name, again?"

James paused, as if trying to decide if giving away the Headmaster's name to an obvious stranger was a good idea, but finally gave in. "Then you're looking for Riddle. Tom Riddle."

"Huh," said Harry. "Interesting."

A/N: This was fun to write! Tell me what'cha think and follow if you want!