From Ashes to Ashes

by Zoeidrish

Harry watches his best friend Ron merge with Voldemort, and destroy everything he loves. But as Harry's own death comes close, he finds himself in a different world, a world on a path to become like his own. Ron has yet to show signs of evil; however, he may already be on that path, unrealized by his friends. And Harry struggles with whether to save him or destroy him.

1. Chapter 1

Rating: T

Pairings: Harry and Hermione

Reader's Note: This takes place 5 years after the books. Stories will be referenced, although as the story progresses you will see how things will change. I have added a few of my own characters along with fun old characters we are all familiar with in the Harry Potter world.

Summary: Harry watches his best friend Ron merge with Voldemort, and destroy everything he loves. But as his death comes close, he finds himself in a different world, a world on a path to become like his own. Ron shows no signs of evil, but he may still find himself on that path and Harry struggles with whether to save him or destroy him.

Harry Potter: From Ashes to Ashes

Chapter One: Where am I?

The dusty shelves were a reminder of how long ago Dumbledore had passed. Webs from uncaring and unfeeling spiders hung down as if only to taunt and collect the ever accumulating dust. Harry sat in the old wooden chair that once belonged to the beloved Headmaster as his thoughts swirled around him. Five years had passed since Dumbledore was killed, four since the last battle with Voldemort. Three years of peace.

Harry narrowed his eyes. Three years of stupid, stupid peace. Rubbing his temples, he sighed. He was battle worn, sick of what seemed to be endless fighting. And he was heart sick.

Glancing up, his eyes wandered around him, glancing over the bookshelves that still held old tomes, the sword that seemed so important at one time, and the long forgotten sorting hat, which also seemed to be somehow sadder at the moment. His mind continued to muse despite the battle not far from where he now found himself. He couldn't help but think it funny, ironic in a sense, that in the three years of peace, no one had used or even stepped into this office, yet now here he sat as if waiting for guidance, instead of death.

Harry moaned out loud as he was once more pulled back into his state of almost self-pity. "How could I have been so blind?" He pounded the table in frustration as his words echoed off the darkened walls to be lost within the dust and ash around the room. Harry found himself drawn into the still fresh memories of the unseen betrayal. Answering his own unspoken accusation, his mind rang out the answer. It was missed because if anything was to happen, he had expected it from someone like Draco. After all, the voice of his father Lucius had to be still echoing in his son's head. People don't just get over years of growing up with men or families like that.

Harry pondered for a moment, his mind jumping from one thought to another...from the Malfoy family to the nature of magic itself. It wasn't like all black magic was band after the war - even Hermione fought to keep all magic accessible (freedom of choice and some such), but any who did black magic actively or agreed with Voldemort's views at all were watched closely. In some cases, they where banned from using magic or sent to Azkaban. Even without the Dementors it was still feared.

His thoughts went back to Draco. That man was less then a boy scout and it would have made sense if war had come through him...except Harry had to concede that he had seen no evidence of evil from him. Draco had even spent less and less time with his family and anything they might have been doing. So, why did Harry focus on him? It had been simply a distraction, diverting his attention from where it should have been! He should have been more vigilant! Or, maybe a better friend. And maybe, if he had been a better friend, he would have seen what was coming.

Ron.

His earliest and most trusted friend.

Harry stood suddenly, slamming the chair against the back wall, frustration and pain echoing out of him, as his hands slapped hard against the desk. His head bent down as the memories refused to stop coming.

The death of Hermione had done something to Ron, Harry could see that now. Back then he missed the signs, happy to be with Ginny, happy that the fight was over. No one mourned Hermione more the Harry, but he had moved on. Ron had not.

He sighed. He had never thought Ron would, or could go to such dark lengths. Now, he lamented his life with Ginny. They had married only a year after the Great Wizard War, as it has come to be known, and their beautiful baby girl had been born only months before Ron's betrayal.

Harry knew Ron blamed the school for Hermione's death. That had been no secret. After all, she pushed to make sure it was reopened, and then it had fallen to her to begin the monumental task of actually organizing the school's new batch of students. She had embraced the role of Headmistress with zeal. Even McGonagall supported her. What Harry couldn't understand, even now as his mind looked back, was how Ron did and could twist her accident so that in his own twisted mind her death was murder. Ron had told everyone that it was murder due to her Muggle heritage, not a tragic accident. Harry shook his head as he remembered going several rounds with Ron, arguing in circles, and only realizing too late that his friend's mind was already made up. Even then Harry had thought it odd how rapidly Ron's moods had changed. Calm and rational one moment, enraged and ranting the next. Harry had been unwilling to see past his own grief to the deeper struggles Ron was facing and continued to try to get Ron to see reason over Hermione's death. Harry pleaded, even shown undeniable proof that her death had been nothing more than an accident. But, all Harry's words laid on nothing but deaf ears.

Harry didn't see Ron again until that night.

Harry stood, looking up at the cracked and decaying ceiling as if collecting his thoughts once more. He didn't feel 23, he felt 123. His life had been a fight, from only months after his birth, until the present. He found himself wondering if it was worth it any longer. Could fighting change anything?

Harry could hear the battle coming, the screams as wizards were killed. He knew their suffering all too well. Although a part of his brain was asking him why he was not fighting, it was fleeting and his mind once again roamed back to that night.

Ron had smiled as Harry invited him in. The smile was what hurt the most, what still stayed with Harry. Ron had then apologized to him about their last encounter. Harry foolishly told him it was nothing. He had asked to see the new addition to the Potter and Weasley family, and after that it was a blur, even to Harry's mind's eye. Ron acted with such fluid movements, Ginny and his daughter were gone before he could react.

"Now you know my pain Potter! Oh, yes, Voldemort says hello! Watch as we burn all that you know to the ground! You will be the last on my list Potter! You will know suffering." Then without another word, he was gone, as was Harry's family. Ron spared no one, not even those he once called family himself. No one was ready, no one had seen this coming; so everyone's reaction had been to slow.

And then it was much too late.

Ron had somehow found the very essence of Voldemort. Harry learned too late what Ron had done. Harry had never known just how strong Ron could have been if he had been less consumed by self doubt, but Voldemort had seen the potential. Ron got the power to take his ill-conceived revenge, and Voldemort got the perfect body. The hate in Voldemort for Harry had run so deep it had seeped into every pore of Ron, changing him even further, warping his grief and rage into unforeseen depths.

All of it focused on Harry.

A whispered chuckle escaped his lips as his head lowed a bit and his eyes came to rest on the main door of the room. The sounds of battle drew ever nearer, the smell of curses and rot floated in the air. A single thought held him in place a moment; Hermione. If only she could be resurrected she would have thumped Harry on the head for ever letting anything like this happen. Or at the very least, she would have found the real reason Ron fell so quickly…so deluded…something. Harry never knew how lost he was not having her around, until that moment.

He was tired of fighting.

Old, dusty papers rushed off the desk as Harry's magic scattered them in his frustration. His own powers had grown even further over the past several years. Sometimes working without thought now. But even his increased reservoir of magic had been unable to withstand the combined force of Ron and Voldemort.

Harry knew he did not have much time, he was not hiding, but as Ron promised, he was the last man standing.

His eyes left the door and roamed about the room. Almost unwillingly, they moved to lock on the perch where Fawkes used to sing. Harry's eyebrow's twitched together as he realized the phoenix had not been seen since the death of Dumbledore. It seemed odd, but until now Harry had not really thought of that. Odd where his thoughts flew at such a dark time as this. But the thought was not easily dismissed. Where had the bird gone? He walked over to the stand and found… ash.

As his eyes gazed at the pile of ash collected in a bowl beneath the perch and, for the first time since coming to the room, he wanted – no, needed to know what had brought him here. His mind was fixed as a word slipped out slowly, almost unheard, "Odd."

He reached out his hand slowly, expecting nothing, yet he felt warmth...no, heat. "How is this..." His voice trailed off as his fingertips touched the ash, just as the door crashed open, Ron's red hair flew as if aflame, his eyes black, no soul remaining. Voldemort had finally purged his own human soul and in doing so took Ron's. All that was left for either of them was a darkness, darker than any demon's. Although Ron's red hair was still visible, it was all that seemed to remain of his once best friend. He now took on much of the appearance Voldemort had before his last death.

Harry didn't even look up, or try and fight, even the words spewing out of Ron month were lost, for the world around Harry was changing, melting away. Then all went black.

Q Q Q

Harry jumped back quickly, patting his clothes as if they were on fire, and then immediately fell over a chair which shouldn't have been there. His breath knocked out of him, he laid there staring at the now clean and well kept ceiling.

"My dear boy, kindly get up. You are not on fire, I assure you." Harry jumped up, looking around him. He was now in a clean, candle-lit office – nothing like where he had been moments before.

"Where...what...how?!" His eyes locked on Dumbledore and his month dropped. "No...you're - you're dead!" The phoenix's unique song made Harry turn and notice its vibrant and young appearance. Harry slapped his face...yes, he was rather sure he was awake. "Fawkes! Dumbledore...what is going on?! You're dead!"

"Yes, as you've stated twice. I assure you, however, I am quite alive. It would seem Fawkes has shown you, or rather brought you, along from a reality that is…I would guess, less than appealing." Harry slumped down in one of the chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk and his old Headmaster continued, "Harry, this is a wondrous and most coveted gift. The phoenix does not take reincarnation lightly. For Fawkes to do such an act we must be looking at a grim future indeed...yes." The man smoothed one hand down the length of his beard, piercing eyes riveted on Harry. "Your home time-line must be very close to our own, and ours must be in danger of repeating the destruction you experienced for you to be here now."

Harry looked up at his mentor, still wrapping his brain around the fact that he was alive. Which 'he' was still up for debate. "Doing what? Reincarnation...who? Time-line. Are you speaking English?"

"My dear boy, Fawkes brought you with him as he reincarnated himself. What you must understand, is Fawkes is not simply bound to a single time-line, but all that exist." Harry only watched him closely, a look that told Dumbledore he was considering if he was still sane. He cleared his throat and continued. "I was watching as he died. Then as he re-created himself, he essentially took you along for the ride." Dumbledore glanced at Fawkes with admiration, but then a solemn look shadowed his face as his eyes returned to the still disoriented Harry, "Obviously an irreversible act must have occurred for Fawkes to choose to use this unique ability, as this reincarnation will now be his last." After a brief pause he smiled at Harry. "Although, I am grateful to see you my boy."

Harry stood up. "Hold a minute. You're telling me I'm dead and now have been reborn in another time-line?! I'm in an alternate reality?" He paused. "I mean, I guess I'd have to be, since you're not dead, Ron isn't breaking down the door, and I'm standing here sounding like a loon...Or I am one. Wait, maybe this is a new torture dreamed up by Ron." He stopped pacing, although he hadn't really been aware he had started. His eyes locked on what certainly look, sounded and even smelled like his once beloved mentor. "Even for magic this seems...unbelievable."

Dumbledore smiled a very warm and familiar smile. "Harry, nothing is impossible with magic. Improbable, maybe. Unlikely, sure, but magic makes the impossible, possible. You, out of all wizards should know this, you stand before me, not just this once, but twice when it seemed it would be impossible to be doing so."

"But, Fawkes was nothing but ash. I never even saw him!"

The old man nodded, "That is the power of a different time-line. Not much different from that of Hermione and the time-turner. In your time-line Fawkes stayed dormant. I'm sure due to a specific event, and he waited and watched to see what the outcome might be. I'm assuming the outcome was irreversible and undesirable and our two time-lines are close enough that the events may lead to a similar outcome here, but with your presence we may now have hope.

Harry took a deep breath, calming his brain and emotions. "Alright. So how do you know I'm me? What happens to the me of now? I didn't kill your Harry Potter and take his place, did I? Am I younger?" He stopped a moment, "I still feel 23…or 123." His voice dropped to a grumble on the last bit, then continued his barrage of questions, "Are there two of me running around now? What about my child...My Child! Ginny! Do they live?"

Dumbledore coughed a moment, put his hand up, "Hold a minute Harry. I know how you came here because I'm one, of only a few, that know of this ability of Phoenixes. I also know the mark, which you now bear, I also know..."

Harry quickly started checking his arms, legs, and face for this new mark. "Great, another 'look at me' mark! Where? What is it?"

His mentor smiled slightly, "Harry, calm down." Harry looked at him a moment, as if to say, really? "It's not all that noticeable, it's your eyes. Although one can still see the green of your mothers, at certain angles, or moods, they shine a fiery red, even glow a bit. You have been touched Harry. A Phoenix is no mere bird, it is myth and legend, which makes it one of the most powerful forces on earth. Even I do not know what all has been passed to you. Now my boy, we must sit and have a lemon drop, while you tell me what great tragedy has led you to be here. Starting with why I'm dead. Then I will inform you of the changes that will impact your new life here as well."

Q Q Q

Harry decided to skip most of his early life, mostly assuming that if this new reality was similar to his old one that the events in it would be much the same. He started his tale with the confrontation with Quirrel at the end of his first year, but Dumbledore waved him past that, knowing the story already. He did the same thing for the next year, but when Harry began to describe the events of his third year, his Headmaster just frowned and listened intently. Harry wasn't sure whether that meant that Sirius had never escaped prison, or if the events had simply unfolded differently, but he just continued to talk. He talked through the Tri-wizard tournament, through the tragic death of Sirius Black, by Bellatrix, then continued with the curse Dumbledore had succumb to. Harry told of how Dumbledore had ordered Snape to kill him, how Harry, Hermione, and Ron found and destroyed all the horcruxes, and the finial battle with Voldemort. Next Harry described how he beat death again, (this would be the third time), before moving on to the brief years of peace. He then moved on to talking about his life with Ginny and their daughter, whom he known so briefly. His voice hushed into reverential tones when he described the birth of his beautiful baby girl, voice deepening into grief as he told of the changes her arrival had brought to his little family.

Dumbledore didn't interrupt, even as Harry paused here, his heart aching for those he had lost.

After a few quite moments, Harry returned his attention to his tale, continuing with the death of Hermione which led to Ron, and the slow changes that, with hindsight, Harry could see transforming his former-friend. Finally, he moved on to Voldemort. Or rather, Voldemort and Ron combined - the most powerful, if not unstoppable, form the Dark Lord had yet taken. Harry described in bleak tones how all those he knew were killed and how the fierce destruction had turned the magic world (and quickly the muggle world) upside down. "It really is starting to look as if Voldemort cannot be killed." Harry sighed. They both contemplated the situation for a few moments before Harry asked, "Now, please tell me, what is different? Other than Ron not going nuts, as of yet, and your survival. Do I – does the Harry here even have a family?"

Dumbledore sat in silence for a moment. "Let me start with a question, you said Sirius Black was killed by Bellatrix?"

"Yes. Why?"

"She has recently broken out of Azkaban; however, we have not heard from her since. We believe her escape was during the final battle, although maybe a bit earlier. Perhaps, it was not in time to help Voldemort, or we would have seen her then. In any case, your Godfather lives." Harry lit up, but before he could speak Dumbledore continued. "I must ask, how well did you know Sirius? From what you said, I gather that you may not have been terribly close to him. You spoke of his death quite matter-of-factly. Sirius, in this reality, never spent any time in Azkaban, so did you feel betrayed that he was temporarily arrested?"

Harry frowned, not following where Dumbledore was leading, "Well, yes, I suppose, we were close, but it wasn't till my fourth year I really got to know Sirius. After all he was accused, wrongly I may add, of betraying my parents. He then was caught and sent to Azkaban. And, like I said, he stayed there until he broke out in my third year."

"No..." Dumbledore shook his head. "I didn't realize you meant he had been in prison since you were a baby. Here, he was accused, but quickly released. I knew he was innocent. Afterwards, I placed you in his care until you came of age to start school. He raised you, mostly as a Muggle, to protect you from any lingering Deatheaters. You and he have been living in his home ever since. Or you did."

Harry just stared at him, then shook his head. "I wish. Well that's at least better than what I could have hoped for. Unlike your Harry, I was raised with the Dursley's. Not your best decision." Harry almost whispered that last part.

Dumbledore chocked on his lemon drop, "I what?!"

Harry looked at him coolly. "You left me with aunt Petunia, horrible uncle Vernon, and their dim witted, son Dudley. I know it was to protect me bu-"

"I left you with your Aunt?!" Dumbledore stared dumfounded a moment, then continued almost to himself, "I guess if Sirius Black had not been available, I would have felt her your only family and therefore the only logical choice." He grumbled something inaudible.

Harry waited a moment, but when Dumbledore said nothing more, he went on, deliberately changing the touchy subject. "Okay. So, we have found some changes. What about - are Ron and Hermione married? Are they even okay? Is, Hermione alive?" Harry asked with hope unhidden in his voice.

"Yes. They are fine. Not married, but both of them are doing well. Hermione is a teacher here at the school now and in case you're wondering, you would be - are 23, so you're in the same time frame, just different line."

Harry nodded, then smiled as he returned his attention to his family, "Oh! Ginny, she must be fine here. Does she – I mean, did the Me of here marry her? Is there a baby?"

"Harry..." He paused, as if debating his next wording. "Harry, you...died before the main battle. It wasn't you that become the master of death, but I. Your death did lead to Voldemort's demise, however." Harry sat in silence. Unsure of what to say. "Ginny is fine, she...married Draco Malfoy."

With this Harry stood, shock rippling through his body, "She what! How!?"

Dumbledore startled at Harry's outburst. "A lot is different Harry. Draco turned away from dark arts. I must say I'm surprised you ever married her. Although you were fond of her here, you two never dated. After your death, it was Draco that she leaned on the most. They had been friends unbeknownst to most of us, for sometime. The Weasley's were worried at first, but he has done nothing but care for her."

"I woke up in a friggin' bloody hell! This must be a torture thought up by Ron! Or Voldemort. Or both, who knows anymore!" Harry threw up his hands then sat back down heavily. With a huff, he asked, "What about Ron? I take it he isn't a Dark Lord. Did he and Hermione still end up together?"

"No. They broke up about a year after your death. Ron has been…solemn, distracted a bit, but not homicidal. He doesn't appear to be currently looking into somehow bringing back Voldemort, if that is what you want to know. He's a teacher here. Defense Against Dark Arts, actually."

Harry glanced up sharply, "You've got to be kidding me. The position that put most of the people that wanted to kill me in a position to do so. For various reasons, sure, but all the same result. And you put Ron smack in the middle." He grumbled, "Yeah, no horrible outcome alarm going off in my head over that."

Dumbledore just looked at him a moment, as if that connection had never accrued to him. "Harry, Ron is not who he was as a kid, but he is also not this mad man as you knew."

"That's the kind of thinking that killed my family." He paused a moment. "I was brought here for some reason." Harry sighed, then quickly threw out a few semi-logical ideas, "That's what I'm here for. The Harry of this time died, now I'm here now to do something he should have. The Ron of this time either is or still will become a frigging crazy person. I may be able to change that, ...or I'm here to save Ginny from Draco...or I'm crazy, this is a trap, and I'm dead." Harry said quickly as he flopped back down into the chair.

Q Q Q

Hermione sat at her desk jotting down new assignments and ideas for class. Although she was already a full month ahead in her class schedule, she found it so fun to organize that she was already starting yet another month. Being the Potions teacher had not been her first choice as a child, however, she found she really enjoyed it now. She stopped writing a moment and her mind shot to Harry, as it often did, she could only imagine what he would say if he were still alive. After all, it had not been a class he enjoyed at all.

On average, other than a long braid she wore on weekends, she wore her hair up in a bun now. It was quick and gave her that adult like feel she often didn't seem to live up to, but one strand of hair always hung loose, showing that almost forgotten side of Hermione's youth. She smiled as she absently twisted that one long blondish strain of hair. The lock was a golden white hue which faded into her natural color near the root. It twined around her finger as thoughts of her younger adventurers filled her head. The only adventures she had now were in class – her hair being the latest evidence of such. Her now two-tone hair was one of those causalities from one of her student's miss-proportioned potions. She ended up liking the new look, so decided to keep it, for now; however, this was as close as she got to adventures now-a-days.

Her thoughts returned to her classes as one particular boy flashed in her head. This student really gave her some issues, ones she was not fully sure how to handle. Hermione was considered a very young teacher, so that made it difficult with all the young teenage boys coming into class. Normally it wasn't anything too bad, nothing more than looks, a few remarks, a note or two. Nothing she couldn't handle. However, one boy wanted her attention and didn't care how he got it. Small tricks here and there, nothing fully harmful, but it was very distracting to the other students and a distraction from learning was something she had very low tolerance for. Sighing, she made a quick movement with her wand, and checked the time. It was late enough that Dumbledore would probably be free for a short chat. She had had enough of this boy, and needed some real advice as to deal with him.

She quickly stuffed her big book bag. It was always spilling out with papers, yet somehow never had any falling out onto the floor. Although the bag always looked heavy, once she put it over her head and shoulders, as she did now, it somehow lightened taking no strength to lift it. With her mind going over questions and possible solutions to her dilemma, she exited her class room and headed down the hall to Dumbledore's office.

The halls of Hogwarts had not changed much since her time in school. Some classes had been added, others changed, and a lot of new teachers were working there, but the overall atmosphere of the school never changed. Although, some of the old teachers where ghosts now, she was grateful for all those that survived that harsh time. One of the biggest differences from her childhood were the paintings. They were no longer so immersed in their own painted world, they watched all who came and went, and if they even thought for a moment something odd was going on it was reported. Although, Dumbledore had to get them to stop tattling on the most basic of things (he didn't care who snuck a piece of candy or if someone packed their backpack wrong), but it was now much more difficult for a student to get away with things like breaking curfew or sneaking into forbidden classrooms. Hermione sometimes wondered how things would have been different for Harry, Ron and herself if the adults had been as vigilant about their students then as they were now. It was still a learning curve for the portraits though. The students really didn't need to be interrogated as they walked from class to class, but Hermione did find a kind of peace knowing the paintings were more alert and less distracted.

How things might have been different if they had security like this when Voldemort was still known as Tom Riddle.

Hogwarts was still a very wondrous place, by muggle standers. Even by magic standards! It held secrets still to be uncovered, Hermione was certain, but she had found a kind of peace here. After the Wizard War of Great Tragedy, or WWGT as it was now listed in most tomes, the school was repaired and now almost identical to the height of its glory days. Hogwarts was not the only school by far, all countries had one or two or, in some areas, three schools; however, Hermione felt, after visiting a few, this one was the most wondrous.

Although, after WWGT, she did note it took a few years to have the Quidditch games held once more. As she thought of the game, her mind drifted back again to Harry. So often she found herself thinking of him as he was in their youth. What would he be doing if he were still alive? Annoying her about something no doubt, and giving her a bad time about being a potions teacher to be sure. As she approached Dumbledore's office she brushed off her robe and checked her hair, something she developed a habit of doing. She felt a little self conscious of her position, still. Not that she would admit that out loud.

"Dumbledore, I know yo-" As she quickly stepped through the door it shut behind her, but her words stopped as she saw a ghost, one she never thought to see. Dumbledore smiled and opened his mouth to speak, but the man before her spoke first.

"Hermione!" Harry ran up and almost tackled her. She was in shock, rigid in his arms. He hadn't passed through her and was holding rather tightly. "Oh, you're alive! It's so great to see you!"

Maybe, she was a ghost too...except she had never died...he had. Snapping out of her first startled reaction, "Harry? Harry! You're...alive. How are you alive?" She quickly hugged him back, a few moments went by before either one of them wanted to let go.

Dumbledore coughed and asked them to sit. "Let me explain, Hermione." Dumbledore told her of the event that lead to Harry's return and the danger that seemed to be around the corner. Describing how Fawkes brought him from other time-line, the molding of Ron and Voldemort, her own death and how Harry was raised by the Dursley's. He left out most of Harry's past concerning his wife and child however, leaving that to Harry to tell, when he felt right to do so.

"So, you're from another time-line? One where I was dead, but you lived." She paused, "Wow. How odd that both paths could be so close, yet so different. Fate must really want you alive." She smiled. "Thankfully." Her words just above a whisper.

"I have really missed you Hermione. Dumbledore tells me you're a teacher here. That's not so different from my time-line, expect you had his job." Using his head Harry nodded at Dumbledore. Who just raised an eyebrow, but said something.

"Wow." She thought for a moment then nodded slowly, "If this school was in jeopardy of being shut down I could see myself fighting for it. It is rather important for children to have a safe place to learn, and unlike some of the other schools, we do have one of the best atmospheres supporting the children's freedom of magical choice. I know Black Magic or the Dark arts are not something that should be taken lightly, but at the same time to forbid them is, well wrong. If you read-" Hermione voice was changing from friend to teacher mode.

"What are you a teacher of?" Harry piped in, before Hermione could think of a book's worth of info as to the value and importance of Hogwarts.

"Oh, I'm the Potions teacher." She said with a bit of pride.

Harry's eyes went wide, his most hated class. "Potions!" Memories of consuming the potions she had made in their past came back. She had been rather good, creating brews far in advance of her peers. But still… "You have to be kidding." Harry wrinkled his nose. "This is what you do when I'm not around to talk you out of things?"

As if no time had gone by Hermione snapped back, "I'm very proficient, and I do recall my potions getting you out of more than one scrap, Harry!"

For a few more minutes they went back and forth, then all of a sudden Harry stood up and stepped over to her. Leaning down, he took her in his arms and hugged her once again. "Oh, how I've missed you!" After a few moments of stunned silence, she returned the embrace. Hermione had missed him more than she had let herself know. Especially the disagreements.

"Well," Dumbledore chimed in, almost forgotten with the reunion before him. "Hermione, would you take Harry to meet Sirius? I have a feeling they have a bit to talk about themselves." He paused, "Tomorrow may be a good time to take him into town, down to Diagon Alley. Check out some stores and let Ron know Harry has returned as well. I will leave it up to you what you choose to share," he looked square at Harry, "we don't want to repeat events. Just remember, we may have already changed some events. The outcome of your time-line may not repeat here. It could be something fully new."

Harry nodded, he wasn't sure what he wanted to share fully with Hermione, he was still wrapping his head around all that had happened.

"Yes, I'll go with you, there is a floo in the main hall. Sirius will be so happy to see you! He has not been fully the same since your death. I can't count the number of times I've seen him looking at your baby or school pictures. This will make him so happy."

"Baby pictures?"

Hermione didn't seem to notice the tone, "Oh yes!" She laughed, "Don't worry, he didn't break out the embarrassing ones in company. Won't he be happy!" She smiled big, forgetting that Harry had not grown up with Sirius. Then, without another thought, she pulled Harry out of Dumbledore's office, but after a moment she poked her head back in, "We still need to talk about Jacobe McLarson." She said in her best firm teacher voice, then she quickly closed the door and caught up with Harry. They wondered towards the main hall, as the portraits congregated together to watch them pass.

s s s

Hermione wanted to use Floo Powder to go directory to Grimauld Place, but Harry asked if they could come out through to one of the shops only a few blocks away, so they could walk on the way to the house. Grimauld place sat in the middle of London, so walking to it meant walking among muggles. Harry found even this nice as, in his world, London was now a war zone. As he and Hermione walked in silence, he realized that he had missed the presence of muggles.

The silence between them wasn't a really awkward, but more of a, 'what do we say now?' silence. Not surprisingly, Hermione was the one to break it.

"So..." Hermione started, "Have you seen Ron yet?" She couldn't think of anything else to say.

"No." Harry knew this Ron was different, but somehow, dark memory's still swam in his mind. "I-I thought we could look him up tomorrow, as Dumbledore suggested."

"Oh, yes. Of course. You just got here. Of course you haven't had time for anything like that." Hermione played with her strand of hair a moment. "So, Mr. Potter, how different was it not dying?" She asked, trying to make the moment light.

He looked at her a moment, "Nice?" He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. After a few moments she smiled back. "Wow, kinda weird huh? We are both looking at the person we grieved for." Harry said softly. "By the way I like your hair."

"Thanks! It was kinda a potion gone astray, but I like it." She looked down, then responded to his first comment a moment later. "You know, I know what you mean. When I first saw you it was...well a miracle. And don't get me wrong, I'm joyful, but at the same time I'm trying to wrap my mind around it."

"I know what you mean." Harry agreed.

Q Q Q

Harry looked up at the two story house before him, smiling a little as memories filled his head. The house, like many in the wizarding world was bigger than it seemed. They also had quite the personality as they tended to reflect their owners. This one was special, because unlike many other wizard homes, this one was smack dab in the middle of a normal London street. Harry always thought this a little odd, since the Blacks were known to hate all muggles, so why had it been built here? He had a suspicion the answer was both sinister and a way to look down their noses, all at the same time.

Harry was happy for the short time he and Sirius had spent together in this home. Unfortunately, due to Kreacher, that evil little house elf, and Bellatrix, Sirius's deranged cousin, they hadn't gotten much time together. After the death of Sirius, and not wanting to go back to the Dursley's (not even long enough to renew the blood wards), he stayed at Grimauld Place; however, that had not been easy. Nor did it last long due to a certain house elf who had been trying to find new and creative ways to kill him.

Between Kreature trying to get around Harry's commands, and a shrieking and annoying portrait of Sirius's mother, it had not been a restful stay. Harry couldn't get a silencing hex to stay on the portrait, couldn't control Kreature, and found the house cold, dirty and hard to life with after the decades of evil seeped into the walls. So Harry had been happy to let the Order use it in their time of need until they no longer had use for it. However, he still hadn't wanted to be rid of it, after all, it was the only thing from any family he had, but it was also not a place to start a marriage or family. So, although he had intended to change the atmosphere of the place, after he and Ginny got married they decided their own house would be a better fit and he could work on Grimauld Place slowly, in his spare time.

He shook his head briefly, as if clearing it. That life was gone, in more ways than one. After all, he had no family back in that old time, but here he now had Hermione, Dumbledore, and even Sirius back again. Although he loved parts of that old life, perhaps out of the tragedy, something great would happen. Sighing he returned his thoughts to the moment. He wondered what it would be like to have Sirius in his life, but not only that. This Sirius had raised the other Harry, what if he didn't like the new Harry? After all, he was bound to be different. Harry could only imagine how his childhood might have gone if he had been raised by Sirius.

He put his hand on Hermione's shoulder, stopping her a moment before she walked up the front stairs.

She turned, "Yes?" She looked at him a moment, then smiled, "Harry, it will be okay."

"It's not just that. I...I was not raised by him. This part of your Harry's past life is new to me and - I'm probably not even similar to the Harry you knew."

"Perhaps not." She thought for a moment. "But, at the same time you are. You are still the boy – the man – who faced down Voldemort out of love for his friends and family. You are still the person who laughed with Ron over Exploding Snap and who begged for my notes before an exam. You may not have had all the same experiences as our Harry did, but deep down inside, I think you are still more similar than not." She took his hand. "I know we have a lot of catching up to do, tales to tell of how different our adventure were. Stories of how things were the same. We may find that the only major differences we have is your death versus Dumbledore's and how you were raised." Smiling she continued. "It will be okay. Just like me, Sirius will want any Harry. This world is now better with you in it. If it had been me who entered your home reality, would have you turned me away just because I came from another time-line? I may not be your Hermione, but do you think I'm so different as all that?"

Harry looked at her, eyes sweeping over the blond hair, and then looking into her eyes and seeing the compassion and understanding there. "Yes, I see your point."

She squeezed his hand, gave him an encouraging smile, then without another word, pulled him up the steps and knocked on the door.

"Quiggly?" Harry said as a small house elf opened the door.

Quiggly, of the other time-line, had come to Harry not long after Sirius's death, offering himself to Harry, and has been loyal ever since. Quiggly had even taken care of Kreacher somehow. Harry had been grateful for him for that and the house elf had helped him more than once beyond that. Quiggly was a special house elf – Harry had realized that from the start. Unlike most elves who wore rags, he wore a small suit, much like a butler. A long, yet neat white beard hung down to his tummy and his ears bent at the tips. He also stood rather straight, not hunched at all.

Quiggly smiled and bowed, his beard nearly sweeping the floor, "Ahhh sir, you have returned. How I have missed you. I knew we would meet again." Quiggly gave a wink, but said nothing more. Harry could only imagine what the enigmatic creature meant. How could anyone have known he'd return from the dead? But, at the moment Harry shook off the questions so he could concentrate on the joy of seeing his old friend once more.

Harry bent down and gave him a tight hug. "Oh, it is good to see you!"

"Yes, yes, very emotional of you Sir." After Harry let go of him, happy to see one consistent in his life, Quiggly showed them in and called for Sirius.

Q Q Q

Sirius sat at his writing desk going over rules and procedures that the ministry was thinking of implementing. Most of them were tested first on Hogwarts, which acted as a micro version of the wizard world as a whole, then most regulations were considered for use elsewhere if they were successful. It was a new practice, but not a direction he was liking. It wasn't like they were testing experimental potions on children or anything, but it still seemed…

He heard the knock on the door, but knew Quiggly would get it, so continued reading. He was thinking of running some these new ideas by Dumbledore or even talking to Hagrid about them. Draco might also be a good choice. He had deep pockets and had already voiced a lot of worries about the new systems at Hogwarts.

"Sir, would you be so kind to come to the door please?" Sirius wrinkled his brow, he hated to put his work on hold but, Quiggly wouldn't let anyone bother him unless it was important. Quiggly was not bound to Sirius. That honor had gone to his son, Harry. It was odd how Quiggly showed up at their door one spring night, but the elf had been quite helpful. And so different from other house elves. Sirius was very grateful when Quiggly hadn't left after the death of his adopted son. Instead he had stayed, kept up with the house, fixed dinner, did all the things a normal house elf did, yet in the back of his mind he also wondered why...

Then Harry stood before him in the doorway. Sirius stood there almost dumbfounded as he gazed at Harry.

It was Harry who moved first, coming forward and hugging him. "It's been so long." Harry said softly.

Sirius hugged him back, still shocked at the very idea of his son standing before him. Was his son's death a lie? ...No. It couldn't be.

After a few moments, Sirius looked at Harry and Hermione, "How is this possible?" Hermione looked at Harry, then smiled as she suggested they sit down while she explained. They all sat in the kitchen where Hermione spoke with Harry filling in the details. After hearing that Harry hadn't been raised by Sirius, but the Dursleys, Sirius had many questions, but he managed to hold his tongue until the tale was finished.

Q Q Q

After a few hours, and a lot of tea, they all sat next to the fire. Quiggly had cleared the dinner dishes and had handed them all a lovely crumble cake. Harry had not had one for some time, it was interesting to eat, it would continue to crumble and reassemble only to crumble again, but it was quite tasty. Harry still couldn't believe how the house had changed. It was lighter, Sirius's mother was no longer hanging up or screaming, the whole place felt better.

"It is so interesting how this place changed. I've never seen it without spiderwebs, dirty or without your wailing mother. It was also always dark and gloomy no matter how much light there was, however, it feels like home." Harry said, his eyes wondering round the room.

"It is home." Sirius said smiling, Harry only looked back at him, almost as if that thought hadn't reached his mind. "It wasn't always like this, we did have quite a bit of work, but I've almost forgot what it was like. Let me tell you, it's better then when I was a kid." He stared at Harry. "It's still hard to believe you didn't have this life, but I do see some of the differences." Harry looked down. "No, no, nothing bad. You beat Voldemort, not even my 'Harry' could do that."

"If my death kept what happened to our time-line from happening, maybe it was better." Harry looked at Hermione, but then continued, "Ron was unstoppable. I know what he can do, and I think this may be a reason why I'm here now, ot-" He stopped himself, he wasn't quite sure why, but he didn't fell like bring up his past family while Hermione sat next to him, ...not yet. "I'm not sure how he found the Essence of Voldemort," Harry Continued, "or if it will be the same here, but I know he can." He paused before continuing, a little slower, "I'm hoping to see the old Ron, although..." His mind trailed a moment, those haunting words echoing in his head, "I'm not fully sure how I'll do."

A moment passed before anyone said anything, but then Hermione piped in. "Harry, it's hard to believe Ron could be so evil, he's a nice guy and the power you're talking about, it just seems, odd. He's always messing up."

"We both have seen what he can do from time to time. He's the sixth son, of course there is some issues. The only one younger then him is Ginny." He looked away a moment. "Umm, ...he has more power, when taped. He just doesn't know it."

"Okay, this is a lot for one day. Harry, please stay here with me for while. Your old room is ready to go, Quiggly saw to that. You do have a house, I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it, I rented it out to a very nice family, but honestly, if your willing I'd love to have more time with you."

Harry smiled. "I'd love that. I don't think I'm ready to knock around a house by myself without my family." He stopped. Regretting those last words.

"You had a family?" Hermione said, touching his hand. "Who? Kids?"

"I would rather not talk about it, there gone now." Harry sated, removing his hand.

Hermione looked down, she didn't mean to pry, she wasn't thinking. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"It's been a long day. Why don't I show you up to your room, Hermione can come by early tomorrow and have breakfast then perhapes we'll all go down to Diagon Alley and check out some of the stores. One thing you won't have to worry about Harry is money. Do you even still have your wand?" Sirius asked.

"Here Sir. Harry. You left this at your home, I made sure to hang onto it for you." Quiggly said, handing Harry his wand, his very wand from the other time-line. He knew this to be true. Quiggly disappeared, doing whatever it was he was doing.

"He is an odd fellow, but a great one." Sirius sated, he didn't notice Harry's quiet reaction to his wand. "Well, tomorrow then, Hermione?"

"Yes." With that, she gave Harry one last hug and bid Sirius a good night and using the floo, headed home.

Sirius took Harry upstairs to his old bedroom, which was rather big, and very welcoming. After a little reunion with a very excited Hedwig, Sirius stopped before shutting the door and leaving Harry to get some sleep. "Harry, I'm here if you need a ear to bend...about anything." Sirius spoke quietly, but encouragingly.

Harry was about to say thank you and let him leave, but stopped. The pain inside was hard to hold alone and Harry found himself nodding. Sirius closed Harry door and sat at his desk, while Harry slowly told Sirius about his lost family and what fully happened the night Ron knocked on his door.

Q Q Q

Hermione met Sirius and Harry back at Grimauld Place, where after a nice breakfast, they headed to Diagon Alley. It was a rather busy Saturday, the shops were beaming with people, surprisingly Harry didn't have a bunch of people gawking, most that bumped into him said, "Welcome back", or "So nice to see you", or Harry's favorite, "I knew it! What was it like in the underground?". But before Harry could say or answer anything Sirius or Hermione, sometimes both, played interference and they were quickly back on their way.

"So, what was everyone told?" Harry finally asked as they continued down the street.

"Well, you have been through more then one scrap and lived, and in your last year, or I should say, the other 'Harry's' last year of life, he took off for a bit. So, even though we had a funeral, most of the wizarding world kinda took that as a code. Plus, the story that you were in the witness protection is what ran in the post this morning." Sirius informed Harry.

"I see. How-"

"Dumbledore." Hermione chimed in. "He thought it best." Harry just nodded.

As they rounded a corner, a man with wild red hair which poked out from under a black hat, backed into Harry. The man, exiting the store apologizing for this or that, was then turning to start a whole new row of apologizing when, his eyes got wide. "Harr-" Was all he got out before Harry's fist landed square between the man's eyes.

Q Q Q

(End of Chapter One. Hope you enjoy this. This is my first Fan-Fiction I have written. Although I'm going to try and be quicker then 6 months to get stuff up, more like 3, believe me, it may take a bit. But I will keep them coming! I would love to hear Comments, even if you have an idea or two of how things could be changed. Hopefully, you'll find something you like and look forward to more chapters. I will admit, it's always nice to hear! Till next time, Cheerio.)