What Might Have Been
By Ammie Hawk
Disclaimer: Don't own either Harry Potter or Gundam Wing. So sad, moving on.
Summary: After Harry's defeat of Voldemort, he decides to go back in time to the night Voldemort killed his parents and do it all over again, making sure he can't come back and saving countless lives in the process. Only something goes wrong and he returns to his sixteen year old body with all his old memories intact and none of the life he was supposed to be creating for himself. GW crossover
AN: Okay, so this has been another of my once abandoned projects, that came back and bit me hard to be rewritten. Now, originally it was a straight up HP fic, but I made it a crossover, I think I changed the necessary elements, but if something doesn't flow with the current timeline, please let me know so I can fix it.
Chapter 1: What's Wrong, Harry?
Harry Potter opened his eyes and looked around. He was lying in his four-poster bed in Gryffindor tower. Wait a minute, Gryffindor tower? This couldn't be right, could it? He'd not come back to school for his seventh year, and even if he did, the year was already over, wasn't it? He groaned as he got up and pulled the covers off himself.
"Hey, Harry," Ron looked up from the Quidditch magazine he was absently flipping through on his own bed. "Ready to go home for the summer?"
"Not really," Harry muttered darkly, thinking of the Dursleys. "You know I hate it there."
"What are you on about?" the redhead gave him a scowl. "I thought your parents were the greatest, why would you hate going there?"
"Are you feeling okay, Ron?" Harry looked at him in confusion. "You know my parents are dead, you've never met them, hell, I've never met them."
"Um, Harry?" Ron gave him an equally confused look. "Maybe we should go see Madam Pomfrey, you're talking nonsense."
"I'm not the one spouting off the bullshit here, you are!" Harry yelled back furiously. "Don't you remember? Voldemort killed my parents, he's been trying to kill me since I was one, and I finally defeated him."
"Whoa, slow down," Ron held up his hands. "You-Know-Who died on Halloween almost sixteen years ago."
"Sixteen years…?" Harry's brow furrowed in thought, and then cleared as a smile broke across his features. "I did it! Oh my god, Ron, it worked! I went back and defeated that bastard!"
With that he ran out of the boys' dormitory and headed down to the common room, looking for his female best friend. Hermione was sitting in one of the best chairs next to the fire, reading a rather large book that Harry didn't bother to get the title of. He ran over and scooped her into his arms in a fierce hug and began twirling her around.
"I did it, Hermione!" he said as they spun around. "It worked!"
"What worked?" the brunette witch looked at him in confusion. "Oh no, you and Dray didn't pull another prank did you? Or did you finally figure out that you're gay?"
"Dray? Dray who?" Harry set her on her feet and looked at her in disbelief. "I don't know any Dray. And I figured out I was gay at the end of the sixth year."
"Oh come off it," Ginny Weasley, who was sitting on the hearth rug, spoke up, a contemptuous edge lacing her tone. "Dray. Draco Malfoy. He's only been your best friend for like, forever. And you are in sixth year, stupid."
"I'm not friends with Malfoy," Harry shook his head. "We hate each other."
"That's it," Ron had finally made it down the stairs to hear this. "We're going to see Dumbledore. You've been acting odd ever since you woke up this morning. Hermione, go get Professor Barton-Chang, Ginny get Snape, Neville," he addressed the round-faced boy in the other armchair, "go find Malfoy and Black. Oh wait, they're in a last minute detention with Barton-Chang. Never mind, Hermione, you can get them, too."
"We're not taking him to Dumbledore," Hermione shook her head. "We'll take him to Professor Barton-Chang."
"No, we'll take him to Dumbledore," the redhead glared at her. "Now, are you gonna go or not?"
"Fine," she ground out, and followed Ginny through the portrait hole, a defiant line to her shoulders.
Harry watched them leave and then turned to his best friend.
"Come off it, Ron," he ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "There's nothing wrong with me. And why did you send them after those three. Sirius is dead, and I can't stand Snape, not that it matters since he's dead too, or Malfoy. And I don't even know Professor Barton-Chang."
"You must've hit your head or something yesterday," Ron and Neville shared a look. "I knew pulling that last prank on Snape was a bad idea. Come on, we'll get you up to Dumbledore and he'll straighten all this out."
Without waiting for a response, the two other Gryffindors grabbed Harry by the arms and began dragging him toward the headmaster's office. As they reached the gargoyle guarding the stairs up to Dumbledore's office, they paused.
"Oh shit," Ron muttered. "I don't know the password."
"Toffee éclairs," Harry wracked his brain for the last password he remembered from his sixth year.
The gargoyle sprang to life and moved out of the way, revealing a long spiraling staircase that moved slowly upward. Ron and Neville, after giving him a strange look, pulled Harry through the opening and they made their way slowly up to the door at the top. Once there, Ron knocked loudly, almost impatiently.
"Enter," Dumbledore's calm voice answered, and Harry's breath caught in his chest.
This just couldn't be real. Dumbledore was still alive! Did he really alter the past that much, that the three people he wanted to speak with most were back from the dead? What about the others? Maybe his parents were still alive, maybe Ron was right. He shook his head, no, he wouldn't get his hopes up. He just had to be dreaming, that was it, he was dreaming.
"Ah, Harry, my boy," Dumbledore smiled as the three Gryffindors entered his office. "I must say I'm quite surprised to see you. To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"He's been acting funny since he woke up, Professor," Ron answered for the stunned brunet. "He keeps saying strange things. Like how he's not friends with Malfoy, and that Professor Snape is dead, and he doesn't know Professor Barton-Chang. He also said that You-Know-Who killed his parents, and has been after him since he was a baby."
"Hmm," a pensive look crossed Dumbledore's face as he eyed Harry. "Won't you please have a seat?"
He pulled out his wand and conjured a chair, which Ron and Neville lowered Harry into and then took their leave. But Harry didn't relax, he had to get him to understand, he had to understand. This was all just too confusing at the moment.
"Now, Harry," Dumbledore gave him a piercing look, "could this possibly be an elaborate end of year prank? I know how you like to go out with a bang. Don't worry, I won't ruin it for the rest of the school, I just need to know."
"No, sir, it's not a prank," Harry shook his head. "Voldemort is a serious matter, I'd never joke about him."
"Tell me, my boy, what is the last thing you remember doing?" Dumbledore asked, his expression neutral.
"Truthfully, I remember killing the old fart after destroying all his Horcruxes so he couldn't come back to life," Harry sighed.
"Where did you hear that term?" Dumbledore's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"From you," Harry shook his head. "You told me all about them, well, Voldemort's at least, in my sixth year. Hermione actually got the book on them after you died."
"I can assure you, I've never had a conversation with you about Horcruxes," Dumbledore shook his head. "And as you can see, I'm very much alive."
"But you weren't," the brunet threw up his hands in frustration. "You died at the end of my sixth year, I was there, I saw Snape kill you."
"I can assure you, Harry," came a voice from the door that Harry almost recognized, "that I would never do something like that. It would not be worth the prison sentence. And as it stands, this is the last day of your sixth year, or are you telling me that I am to kill him before the train leaves in a few hours time?"
"Snape!" Harry whirled around and saw the Potions master standing just inside the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms folded across his chest.
"Now that's a first," the somewhat less greasy man than Harry remembered smirked. "Never in your life have you called me that, your classmates, yes, but you, Harry, no. I have enough trouble keeping you from calling me Uncle every day."
"What's going on here?" a distinctly Asian man appeared beside Snape, Hermione, Malfoy, and another boy Harry didn't know in tow. "Hermione was saying something about Hairu having amnesia or something. Though why he was brought to you and not straight to me is baffling to me. You know how I feel about this Dumbledore."
"I don't have amnesia!" Harry interrupted in frustration. "I'm telling you the truth. Hermione, don't you remember? You helped me figure out a spell to go back in time, to defeat Voldemort before he had a chance to ruin my life. We wanted a better future. You have to remember."
"I think I may have an idea of what is going on here," Dumbledore smiled and sat back, his eyes twinkling madly. "Severus, would you be so kind as to…"
"It has already been done, Albus," the Potions Master rolled his eyes. "As if I would not inform those two of anything involving Harry. They should be here any minute."
As if on cue, the fireplace flared an emerald green and two people stepped into the office. Harry looked into their concerned faces and promptly fell to the floor in a dead faint.
Ammie: Well, another new old fic. Updates may or may not happen frequently. Anyway, let me know what you think.
