Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other owned item used in this story.

A/N: I really should focus on a single story (preferably my own original work), but meh. When an idea sticks, you just gotta write it out. It's set after fifth year. Also, I'll admit that the first chapter sucks. It picks up after that though.

Harry Potter and the Broken Miracle

Chapter One – Divergence

"With rebellion, awareness is born." ~ Albert Camus

In the fortress-stronghold of Lord Voldemort, Harry James Potter lies in the Abyss.

He does not know how long he has been here, or even where he is exactly. All he knows is pain.

Outside Number Four Privet Drive, Harry lay on the ground in bruised and battered agony. Two days after the end of fifth year, Death Eaters had attacked. Dumbledore's supposed protection had failed, and they had attacked in force.

'Itty-Bitty Potter went up the water spout!' Bellatrix Lestrange cackled. 'Down came the rain, and washed the Potter out!' Two seconds later: 'Crucio!'

He hadn't even had a chance to fight back before he was incapacitated. They forced him to watch as the Dursleys died like game for hunters in a flash of green. Then they tortured him. Then they took him away.

The Order never arrived.

Harry was tortured every day. By the Abyss, and by his captors in brutal, depraved ways. After the third day, he had slipped into insanity, but still alive to feel the pain.

He was tortured by visions of his parents, his godfather and his friends. They blamed him. Taunted him. Accused him of causing nothing but death and devastation. That he ruined their lives. A logical part of him would have said it made no sense, but the Abyss tore all logic and all sense from the world.

'Harry Potter. You are mine.'

Lord Voldemort smiled. It wasn't a happy smile – it only promised malice and hate. He casually reached into his long flowing robes and drew his bone-white wand. With a single flick, Harry screamed in agony once more. It seemed to go on for an eternity before Harry's voice failed him.

Then it was over. Voldemort walked to were Harry lay, bound in iron chains. He kneeled down to Harry's level. 'You're probably wondering how I got past Dumbledore's protection, yes?' He paused, perhaps for a degree of melodramatic flair. 'I found someone useful. Far more powerful than even Dumbledore. Jackson Tibus.'

He doesn't know how long he's been here. Could've been a few days, or a few decades. All he knew was the pain.

But then, after a few eternities, that began to change. Harry could think again to a degree. And he did. He thought about everyone who ever died for him. Why they died. And it all came back to Voldemort. Voldemort and the damned prophecy.

They had died so he could live. Was he to blame? Perhaps in part, but it all came back to Voldemort. Harry vowed to survive, to make that mean something. He was going to kill the bastard. For neither can live while the other survives…

For the longest time, the black of the Abyss was eating Harry.

Now Harry began to fight back.

Albus Dumbledore sighed. Day 13, and still no sight of Harry, or even Voldemort. He stood in the former residence of Number 12 Grimmauld Place - former home to the deceased Sirius Black. His Order of the Phoenix sat before hi, eager and desperate for any news.

'Still no sightings.' Dumbledore said simply with a heavy heart. The Order deflated. 'How did they get past his protections?' Kingsley Shacklebolt pondered. 'He must have had help.'

Dumbledore agreed. The wards were based on love magic – something Voldemort could never comprehend. Therefore, he would have needed help from another wizard just as powerful as Voldemort or Albus himself. 'But who? That is the question.' He said.

Remus Lupin seemed to have an answer for that. Wordlessly he stood and produced a tattied issue of the Daily Prophet and threw it down on the table. The headline read:

AMERICA HAILS TIBUS AS THE NEW MERLIN

'He's powerful, just like you Albus.' Remus stated. Albus nodded, as it was true.

'He ain't dark though.' Moody grunted. 'At least not like Voldemort.'

Remus seemed to have thought about this. 'True, but twenty years back there was that scandal with his memoirs. Y'know, the ones about how he thought the muggles could wipe us out.'

Dumbledore saw where he was going. 'You think that he's made an alliance with Voldemort to wipe out the muggles?'

Remus shrugs. 'I don't know. But it makes sense.'

'Agreed. We'll have to keep an eye on him.'

Just then, the fireplace flared green, and a sobbing Arthur and Molly Weasely leapt out. Albus was instantly on alert, but what they told him next nearly broke his heart.

'They…they took Ginny!'

They've pulled me from the Abyss. I don't know why. I can guess, though. They're gonna kill me. Or taunt me. Or torture me. Probably all three. Ah well, what's to be done? The pain no longer fazes me like it used to. They have to try and one-up somehow. Think I'd prefer a nice trip to the Bahamas though. Now that would shock me.

I'm being dragged along in heavy chains. Fenrir Greyback the werewolf and someone named Carrow. The part of me that's flourished in the pain wants to crack jokes about dogs and shock collars, but my throats too bruised to speak unnecessarily.

We enter a hall, and like the rest of the godforsaken place it's like a dark and grimy dungeon. They should really think about getting a decorator in. Some candles would do wonders, yes?

I barely notice as they throw me at Voldemort's feet. His, strange, scaly, monster feet. Seriously, have you seen them? They're like whoooaaaaaa, what the hell's going on here?

There's someone standing at his side, bound with a bag over their head. Poor sod, whoever it is.

Voldemort grins. It's not the nicest grin. 'Hello, Harry.'

'Sup, Tom.' I rasp. I'm gonna die anyways, so why not piss him off a bit beforehand? Just as intended, Voldemort's nostrils flared and he snapped: 'Do not call me that!'

'Why? It's your name, no?' Voldemort leapt to his feet. 'My name is Lord Voldemort!'

'Did you actually get it changed though? 'cause if not then it's just a nickname…'

A second later I'm on my back in agony as he punishes my cheek with the Cruciatus Curse. Bah, let him. 'Getting rusty, Tommy! Needs more juice!'

Surprisingly, he stops, deep in thought. Then he flicks his wand and the chains around me fall off. I blink at the realisation I can actually move again. Then he does something even more surpising. He reaches into his robes and pulls out a familiar old wand. Mine. Holly and phoenix-feather, eleven inches.

I catch it as it is thrown towards me. 'You can still duel, yes?' Voldemort phrases it like a question, but really it's a statement. 'Why should I?'

Voldemort chuckles. 'For her.'

He waves his hand, and the bound person is revealed to be Ginny Weasley.

'What happened?' Albus asked as gently as he could. The Weasleys were sat down by the fire, given cups of calming tea and sympathy in bulk.

'We were in Diagon Alley-' Molly sobs.'- they just came out of nowhere. Oh Ginny.'

Arthur, for his credit, sat silently in numb shock, although there were the beginnings of a furious inferno in his eyes.

'We'll get her back, Molly.' Albus promised.

Well, they one-upped themselves. I'll give them that. Tricksy, very tricksy. What to do? What can I do?

'Duel, or she dies.'

We both know she'll die anyway, and Ginny knows it too, bless her.

'Expelliarmus!'

The jet of red light didn't do anything. Voldemort simply deflected it. To be honest, I'm more surprised I actually managed to cast it. I'm broken and drained, but there was something stirring inside me – a storm beneath the bruised and scarred flesh.

At least you're going out on your feet.

A jet of orange is hurled at my feet, and I'm knocked back on my ass. So much for that thought.

All the Death Eaters – backed away and watching from the sidelines – are laughing. They know I can't win. Can't fight Voldemort. Can't save Ginny.

The storm within ignites, and to the shock of all, little, broken Harry Potter stands to his feet. No one's laughing now. They'll all in shock. Even Voldemort is unnerved.

Ginny cries out my name, telling me to keep fighting. To not give up. Voldemort slashes his wand and Ginny screams. And that was when all hell broke loose.

I send spell after spell at Voldemort. Fuelled by anger, and pain – part of me wants to say love – Voldemort can't keep up with my assault. Eventually, one spell gets through and knocks him back. The Death Eaters gasp in collective –this ain't a fucking pantomime – and Voldemort realises he might have kicked the proverbial hornet's nest.

He got desperate. He got weak.

He turned his wand on Ginny and fired off a Killing Curse.

Time slowed to a halt. Most would say they had to think about sacrificing their life for another, but I didn't even consider anything else.

I moved in between, and the green light hits me square in the chest. The last thing I hear is Voldemort's tyrannical laugh and Ginny's heartbroken screams.

So here's a funny thing. The afterlife is exactly like King's Cross station. Only cleaner. And more white. And for some reason I'm naked. And my scar is gone. So are all my wounds.

Still, it's peaceful here, and it's certainly better than the hellhole I left behind.

Left Ginny in. That thought sobers me immensely, and I'm wracked by guilt.

'It's not your fault.' A soft voice answers. I spin around, and find myself face to face with a dead woman. Wait...I'm dead too. Why is that surprising? Lily Potter smiles at me, and before I can say anything she's embraced me in a hug to rival the Weasley matriarch. 'Mum?'

'It's me, Harry, it's me. We're so proud of you.' She said.

'We?' I ask, buried in the crook of her shoulder. I feel her nod. 'Only one could come here, though.'

'Where is here, exactly?

Lily looked around. 'I don't know what you're actually seeing, but this is a form of limbo. For those with a choice.'

I don't need to ask what the choice is. 'I need to go back to help Ginny.'

Lily smiled. 'Even if it seems hopeless?'

'I'd do anything for her.' Suddenly what I just said hits home. I hadn't even given a second thought to Ron or Hermione, or anyone else when I said that. Maybe…nah. I couldn't love her. That's just silly…isn't it? I've just spent time in hell on Earth, it's just the insanity talking.

Harry's got a girlfriend, Harry's got a girlfri- SHUT THE FUCK UP!

Lily smiled knowingly. 'Just follow your heart. It'll keep you right.' She leaned forward and kissed me on the head. 'I love you Harry, so very much.' She let go of me, and stepped back.

'Wait-' I call out desperately. Part of me doesn't want to leave. Doesn't want to leave Mum. She started to fade away. 'Don't go!'

Lily smiled. 'You've made your choice, and now you have to fight. And you'll win.'

Just as the world collapses, I'm sure I heard her shout: 'Don't come back till I have grandkids!'

Voldemort's laughing. Ginny's crying over my corpse that's not a corpse.

'He is dead, Ginerva.' Voldemort's walking over. 'I have bested him.' You cheated!

'He's not dead.' Ginny stated defiantly. 'Harry doesn't die. He can't.'

'And why is that?' Voldemort asked, his voice dangerously low. The answer Ginny gave would've made me smile if I could.

'Because he's Harry.' Hell yeah. I'm Harry motherfuckin' Potter.

He crouched down next to us, and I crack open one eye, and saw that Voldemort had a serpentine necklace around his neck. I wondered what it was for, then it hit me. This place was warded against magical transport, but Voldemort would have a way to get past his own wards. That was either the necklace's purpose, or Voldemort's turned into a pansy.

'Harry. Potter. Is. Dead.' With every word he pokes me in the chest with his wand. Fuck it…

'Actually…' I spring up and snatch the necklace, and yank it from his neck with my left-hand, then ram my wand into his chest with my right. The force of the spell sends him flying across the room.

I turn to Ginny and grab her hand, still holding the necklace. 'Trust me?' I rasp softly.

Despite her shock and fear, she smiles. 'Always.'

I squeeze my eyes shut and concentrate. I've never Apparated before, but hey, no time like the present. Am I right?

I feel the discomforting sensation of being squeezed through a needle tube just as the lights of a dozen curses come flying towards us. The world spins, and Ginny screams.

Then everything stops. Blue sky hangs above us. I did it. Booyah, motherfuckers!

I don't know where we are, and I don't care. I'm free, and Ginny's safe. That was all that mattered.

Albus was still in shock. After thirteen days of no sightings, Harry had not only engineered his escape from Voldemort's clutches but even rescued young Ginerva as well. All the more impressive considering the state the boy had been in.

His brother Aberforth contacted him last night to tell him that Harry and Ginerva had Apparated into Hogsmeade somehow. Less than five minutes later the Order had arrived in force to secure them. They were both taken to St. Mungo's hospital in London, and placed in the care of Jenny Brightwater, a Healer with ties to the Order.

Ginerva was fine save a mild case of Cruciatus exposure and the shock of the situation. Harry on the other hand…well, Healer Brightwater was giving a sizable list.

'On the surface he's got dozens of mild bruises and lacerations. Inside you've got internal bleeding, severe nerve damage, fifty-three broken bones, a punctured lung and mild muscle atrophy.' She rattled off. 'And that's just the physical. He's been asleep so we can't determine the extent of mental damage, but anyone can tell it'll be extensive.'

Dumbledore sighed and stroked his beard, deep in thought. They were in the hospital, right outside Harry's private room. Through the windows he could see Harry hooked up to nutrient I.V's and covered in salves and bandages. The room – like the rest of the hospital – was sterile, clinical white. He's been through the wars.

'What are our options?' He asked. Brightwater consulted her chart, before glancing at Harry furtively. 'Well.' She began slowly. 'The surface damage will be fixed by the end of the day. We could theoretically release him in three days assuming you can pass the paper work and get appropriate home care for him.' She paused at that, before adding. 'Normally I'd advise against that, but seeing as its Harry I think it's best to get him out. There's no hiding him from the press here, let alone Death Eaters.'

Albus nodded. 'I'll get right on that. You said you were unable to assess his mental state?'

Brightwater shrugged. 'He's been unconscious. I've asked a couple of the mind Healers though and they've said he'll probably have severe issues upon waking up, if not a mental breakdown.' She sighed. 'This kinda trauma isn't what a hospital can fix. He needs his friends and family to help him get through it, not a guy with a notepad.'

'Another reason to get him moved then.'

'Precisely' Brightwater agreed. 'I'll alert you when he wakes up. Until then we're just going to have to sit tight. If he really is the Chosen One then we have to make sure he comes out of this in fighting shape.'

Albus mentally scowled at that. She implied that Harry was a pawn, a mere tool to be used against the Dark Lord. He himself had made those mistakes far too often. They needed Harry yes, but he was still an individual. 'Thank you, Jenny. That would be most appreciated.'

Jenny nodded, before departing to check on her other patients.

Once she had left, Albus moved to the window and scrutinised Harry once again.

Just what are we to do with you, Harry?

Dumbledore had reviewed Ginerva's memory of the events leading to the escape, and what he had seen could not make him more proud of Harry. The way he had moved so selflessly in the Killing Curse made him glad to know he had met Harry. He had also smiled at Ginerva's declaration. She would do wonders for him, he was sure.

It also eliminated another problem Dumbledore had identified. He had long suspected that Harry had contained a fragment of Voldemort's soul, as a remainder from the attack on the Potters. It explained both the abilities and connection he shared with the Dark Lord. It also meant that Harry would have to die for Voldemort to become mortal once more. That would no longer be an issue, however – he suspected that the fragment was now gone. He had put his hunt for Voldemort's other Horcruxes on hold until Harry was better.

Harry's friends had been desperate to see him, although they had been refused visiting rights until he was awake.

Then there was the matter of the Dursley family. The Ministry had been quick to cover it up, and the funeral had been delayed until Harry could choose to go if he wished. He lamented the lack of love there, but knew that Harry may still have elected to go.

Many of his personal possessions were destroyed, but his owl had been out hunting, and the cloak of invisibility – far more important than even Harry realised - and map were left untouched. Most of his schoolbooks and clothes, along with his broomstick were ruined, and would require replacement. Another task to consider.

Albus sighed. So much to do, so little time.

Ron banged the back of the head again on the wall behind him. 'I hate this!' Beside him, Hermione nodded in sympathy. 'I know Ron, but it's so they can make sure he's alright first.'

Ron harrumphed. 'It doesn't mean I have to like it.'

Just then, Molly Weasley's voice echoed up through the floors of the Burrow to their room. 'You can clean your room!' Ron jumped before scowling. 'She hears everything…' He muttered.

'Yes I do!' Which made Hermione giggle. Ron turned to her and scowled. She simply grinned back in amusement. He sighed, before standing up and marching over to the window. Hermione's grin faded, and turned to a look of sadness. 'Ron?'

'I hate not knowing if Harry's alright. He spent thirteen days there! And we couldn't do a damn thing!' He exploded. 'He does so much for us – for everyone – and all he seems to do is suffer.'

Hermione was surprised. 'I didn't know you felt that way.'

'I do. I know I act like a git sometimes, but...' He sighed. 'That's what Harry does. You meet him and he makes you a better person.' He seemed to realise what he had said and blushed a spectacular shade of red. Hermione stood and joined him by the window, and placed a hand on Ron's shoulder.

'I know Ron. I think the same.' She sighed. 'But Harry's safe now. Dumbledore's made sure of that. We just have to be patient and everything will be fine.'

The pair fell into silence, watching her cat Crookshanks chase gnomes across the garden.

Hermione decided to ask about whether Ron had done his homework: 'Hey, Ron -?'

Hermione gasped when Ron turned and pressed his lips to hers in a kiss. Hermione wasn't sure what to do until Ron stopped, and looked at her in a mix of embarrassment and shame.

'I-I should go.' Hermione stuttered, before making a beeline from the room.

For a brief instant when I awoke, I thought I had gone back to Limbo. Everything around we was white, much like a hospital. I realised I wasn't wearing my glasses – although given the state they'd been in, it was probably better to replace them. I could make out a few things though. I was in a room, and more specifically a bed. I could feel something attached to my arm – an IV probably. So I was in a hospital. St Mungo's. Alright. That meant a degree of relative safety.

I hear a door to my right open. I turn, and I'm greeted by the entrance of a blurred outline of a person. 'Hello, Harry.' Female. Sounds nice. Probably a healer. 'Glasses.' I croak. My throat hurts from lack of use. How long had I been out?

The healer presses a pair of simple glasses in my trembling hands. I manage to slip them on and the world comes into focus. The Healer – her nametag identified her as "Jenny Brightwater" – she held a simple prettiness and a warm demeanour. Quite short, with her auburn hair tied up in a neat bun.

'My name is Healer Brightwater.' She began. I've noticed. 'You've been here for about a day and a half after your capture. You were very badly hurt-' No, really? '- but we've managed to fix most of the physical ailments. You'll need bed rest and a potions course outside for a few weeks, though.'

She reached for the jug of water on the bedside, and poured me a glass which I drank from greedily. She frowned slightly, as though debating whether to continue. Then she said 'If you need anything just say.'

'Thanks.' And with that, she left.

Fifteen minutes later, Albus Doumbledore entered. Clad in his usual eccentric robes, he looked every part the wise old wizard he was, especially with his ever-twinkling eyes. He was beaming at me with pride, and proclaimed: 'Harry my boy, you never cease to amaze me.'

'Heh. Thanks, I guess.' I hated it when people did that. Oh Harry, you could turn the sun off, oh Harry, you can do anything. I'm just a kid made by circumstance. I'm not a hero. Sure I've done incredible things, but for the most part I just came in at the end. Hermione had done most of the leg-work in finding the Chamber. And helping me with the Tournament…

Most of the time in Voldemort's hands is blurred – I don't even really remember escaping – but I remember Ginny, and I remember dying. And the King's Cross that wasn't King's Cross.

'Is Ginny alright?' I ask. Dumbeldore smiles reassuringly. 'She is perfectly fine – she is at the Burrow.'

I smile as Dumbledore continues. 'I saw her memory of what happened, and I must say you performed spectacularly. Few could be so selfless.'

'How did I survive?' I asked. Part of me doubted even Dumbledore would know, but the man was a genius and usually had a half-answer. Just as expected, he said that he didn't know for certain, but had theories. 'Tell me Harry, can you still feel your connection to Voldemort?' He asked, as though discussing the weather.

'Yes.' I could, but it felt different somehow. 'It doesn't seem as strong though.'

Dumbledore tilted his head. 'Interesting, it seems my theory has to be amended.'

'He can't get in though.' Yup. I had finally figured out Occulmency. At least in regards to keeping out Voldemort. Dumbledore smiled sadly. 'How?'

'I just have to think of things he hates. My friends. Mum. Dad.' I pause, and take a breath. 'Sirius.'

Dumbeldore beamed at hearing this. 'Love is his weakness Harry, and your greatest strength. Don't shy away from it.'

We fall into companionable silence. Dumbledore examined the many trinkets and get well gifts I had seemingly been sent – who the hell were these people? – and I focused my interest at a small hole in my bed covers. Eventually, I break the silence. 'Ron and Hermione?'

'Ah yes. Mister Weasley and Miss Granger were most worried about you. I have decided it best to simply have you all moved to Hogwarts as soon as possible for your protection.'

I scowl at that. 'Caged birds can never fly…'

'You are not caged, my boy. It is simply until we can find a more permanent solution. The Burrow is not safe enough and we're currently having difficulties with Grimmauld Place. But that is for another time.'

I sigh and accept what he says. He's right, as much as I don't like to admit it. He only ever acts for our best interests, even if we don't like it at the time. Even Sirius knew that.

Strangely I'm not grieving over Sirius anymore. I think seeing my mother in the afterlife made me realise that the dead are never really gone. They watch after us, and never abandon us when in need.

'You're coping well with things.' Professor Dumbledore noted, eying me furtively over his half-moon spectacles.

'Can't really remember most of it.' I admitted honestly. It had all blurred together into a constant maelstrom of agony, so picking apart a single event was borderline impossible.

'Perhaps it is for the best.' Dumbledore mumbled. He smiled, and patted my leg comfortingly – I twitch at that. Not too keen on being touched. – before standing. 'I'll see you again shortly. Get rest.' What else am I supposed to do? Sing and dance around a campfire? 'And I'll try and arrange something with your friends.'

'Thank you.'

Dumbledore suddenly seemed to remember something. 'The funeral for the Dursley's is in three weeks, if you wish to go.' I blink, then remember that my "family" had died when the Death Eaters got me. We had never been much, but they had looked after me for the best part of ten years. Grudgingly, less than socially acceptable, but they had still done it. I owed them that at least.

'I'll go.' I promised. Dumbledore nodded, before leaving me alone in the room.

I fucking hate hospitals.

I think it's time I made a change.

Underneath a small tree in her garden, Ginny sat there thinking. She was thinking about how Harry had somehow managed to rescue her despite being a prisoner before she was. Was "rescued" the right word? Perhaps "Escape" would be better. Or perhaps "absconded"? Whatever it was, Harry had saved her life again.

Although she knew Harry would hate to acknowledge it, Harry did have a very heroic quality to him. He fought and killed a basilisk when she was eleven to save her –with a sword! And then the night in the Department of Mysteries saw him placing himself in-between her and the Death Eaters. And then, despite extensive torture and abuse, he not only takes a Killing Curse for her, but survived and then escaped.

And then there was his compassion. After he had rescued her from the Chamber, he had actually began to talk to her and write, to make sure she was okay. Sure he could be a prat sometimes, but no matter what way you looked at it, Harry lived up to the legends.

Not that she fancied him or anything. No, of course not. She was with Dean. Harry didn't like her like that. And she was with Dean. The old Ginny couldn't speak around him, and had a collection of self-made dolls and stories. Not the person she was now. Dean was nice to her, if a little too interested in the physical side of things. She was with Dean.

Yes, Ginny definitely had no romantic feelings for Harry Potter.

A/N: Peace out.