AN: This story starts with the final stand between Harry and Voldemort. Definitely AU! Should have a happy ending... Or will it?!
NOT SLASH! Just so you know :P
Hope you enjoy :)
~GreenEyes
Harry stood in the Great Hall. All of Hogwarts fought around him, students and teachers and Death Eaters all in a blur of screams, shouts, and the light of spells zooming at their intended target.
Before him stood Voldemort. His red eyes were blazing, his reptilian nostrils flaring. His wand was pointed directly at Harry's heart.
"Tonight you shall die, Harry Potter," Voldemort shouted, "If I have to keep killing you until you finally stay dead, so be it!"
Harry didn't bother to answer him, he was too angry to think of a retort anyway. Here stood the reason he was an orphan, the reason he had to grow up with the Dursley's, the reason everyone stared at him, the reason so many people Harry cared about were dead. The reason he would never get to thank Severus Snape for saving his life, and sacrificing his own.
He had done as Severus had said. He had been killed by Voldemort. He hadn't tried to defend himself. But now he was back, and this time he would fight.
This time, Tom Riddle was going to die.
When Harry woke up, everything was white. It was so bright for a moment Harry couldn't see. When he covered his eyes to shield them from the brightness, he felt that his glasses weren't there.
Uncover your eyes, young man, and stand.
Harry started at the sudden voice –a woman's, soft and kind of eerie– but did as he was told. His eyes adjusted to the brightness and, despite his lack of glasses, he saw the form of a woman standing in the fog that surrounded them.
All that he could really make out was her eyes. They glowed with an unearthly blue hue and had no pupils or iris; only blue.
"Wh-who are you?" Harry asked.
I? I am what some may call 'fate'. Others may call me a 'goddess'. You, Harry Potter, may call me 'Amy'.
"Okay…" Harry said, processing what she had told, "You may call me Harry, I guess."
I shall do so, Harry.
"May I ask you something, Amy?" Harry asked, realizing his surroundings looked kind of familiar.
You may.
"Did I die… again?" Harry asked.
Not many mortals can add the 'again' to that question, Harry. You have had many close-calls in your life… But no, you are not dead.
"Voldemort-?" Harry started.
Tom Riddle is dead, and he shall remain dead thanks to you.
"Not just me," Harry protested, "I had a ton of help-"
Even so it was you who dealt the final blow. It was you who walked to your death; alone and afraid. It was you who carried on when those around you could not or would not. You are a hero, Harry Potter. You have refused praise and reward your entire life; you are too noble to relish the glory that has cost you everything.
"Voldemort murdered my parents and everyone I ever loved," Harry said coldly, "There is no honor or glory that can come of that."
You are not like most mortals, Harry. Many would murder a loved-one themselves for half of your fame.
"That's horrible!" Harry exclaimed.
It is most horrible indeed. Yet it is true.
"Why am I here, Amy?" Harry asked, "You said I'm not dead."
Ah, it is true that you are not dead. However, you are in what your mortal companions call a 'coma'.
"Oh, fan-bloody-tastic!" Harry smacked a hand to his forehead, "So what? I'm just imagining this?"
No, Harry, this is all quite real. I have brought you here because of the great hardships in your life that you have had to overcome. Because of all that you have done, while refusing anything in return. I have brought you here, Harry, because I think you deserve more than to be stuck in a 'coma' for probably the rest of your life, people who barely knew you mourning by your bedside, never getting to live your life.
"What are you going to do?" Harry asked.
That is up to you. I will grant you one thing, one thing you desperately want. Anything you desire.
"Like a wish?" Harry asked, "You're granting me a wish?"
I have heard mortals refer to it as a 'wish'. Yes, I shall grant you one wish.
Harry thought hard. What could he wish for? There was never really anything he wanted. Sure, he didn't like people staring at him, but it seemed silly to waste wish on people not staring at him anymore. And, besides, he had gotten used to ignoring stares and whispers over the years.
Then a memory floated to the forefront of Harry's mind.
Back in Fifth-Year… Snape's pensive.
Severus Snape, the greasy dungeon-bat, who had risked his life to save his bestfriend… And when she died despite his efforts, he continued to risk his life to protect her son –Harry Potter… He had been bullied and mocked during his entire schooling career by Harry's father, but had still protected Harry –his mortal enemy's son… Harry never got to thank him…
"I wish I could make up my life-debt to Severus Snape." Harry said.
Severus Snape is dead. There is still a way you can make it up to him, but it is dangerous.
"I don't care," Harry said, "I owe him everything."
There is a critical point in Severus' life at which you can help him. But I do not think it is worth the damage it could do to your present.
"Please," Harry begged, "I have to do this, that is my only wish."
Harry heard the woman sigh.
As you wish, Harry Potter.
That was all Harry heard before the whiteness gave way to pitch blackness.
When Harry woke he could feel his glasses back on his face, but they felt… Different. Harry felt different. Something was wrong.
Harry looked around. He was sitting on the bank of the Black Lake. He was at Hogwarts, but the castle was fine. No Death Eaters or teachers dueling. None of the students surrounding Harry looked like they were primed for battle… none of them looked familiar either.
A boy with long, shaggy brown hair, a boy with short blonde hair and his face in a book, and a short portly boy with dirty blonde hair were walking toward him.
"Hey Prongs!" The shaggy-haired boy hailed Harry.
Prongs?
Harry had a sense a realization growing in his gut. He leaned over the bank he sitting on and looked into the water.
And nearly fell in!
Harry gaped at his reflection. He was James Potter!
The boys –Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew– sat down around him. Sirius quirked an eyebrow at him.
"What's wrong, Prongs?" He asked Harry, "You look like you've seen a ghost."
AN: Mwahahah! Don't you just love cliff-hangers?
So what did you think? Any questions? Let me know!
I'll try to update soon :)
~GreenEyes
