Chapter One; 'Every day is a fresh beginning, Every morn is the world made new.'

'Will he be ok?' A male voice; low, concerned.

A sigh. 'Honestly? I don't know.' Madame Pomfrey.

'That... that thing on his leg – ' A softer voice; female.

'Horrific.'

Slowly opening one eye, Harry noted the dark sky through the window opposite the bed he was lying on. It was night. Carefully reached under his pillow for his wand, and froze when he realised that it was not there. They had taken his wand. Keeping his eye fixed on the three speakers so as to make sure they were still turned away in conversation, he moved his arm back to its previous position and feigned sleep, listening intently to their conversation.

'I'm going to go and let Albus how he's doing,' the woman said, 'Keep an eye on him.'

Footsteps. The door opening and closing.

'Where do you think he came from?' The girl asked, after a few moments.

'No idea.' The boy. 'Never seen anyone like him though, even members of the Order don't look that bad when they get back from raids.'

They really don't know –

'How old do you think he is?'

'Sixteen maybe?'

– Even Dumbledore doesn't –

'He's so skinny.'

'Mum will sort that out, she'll have him fed up in no time.'

– It's the only explanation –

'Do you - ' the girl hesitated, 'Do you think he's dangerous?'

'I don't know,' the boy answered, 'I don't see how a sixteen year old can be.'

– But it's ridiculous! –

'I've never seen a sixteen year old perform the kind of magic he did last night.'

'True.'

Silence.

–Theoretically it's possible... –

'What if he doesn't wake up?'

'Madame Pomfrey's fixed him up as best she can.'

– Just never proven... –

'You didn't answer the question, Ron.'

'I know.'

Harry heard the sound of clothes rustling, and felt the bed shift as someone sat on the end of it.

– Inter-Dimensional travel.

'He looks so tired.' It was the girl. 'Do you think he – '

'Shhh,' the boy quieted her, 'he's waking up.'

Harry shifted, turning his head so that he was facing the two speakers, eyes still closed.

'Lo,' he said, slowly opening his eyes, his voice low and hoarse.

Two faces swam into focus. Ron. Hermione. Harry felt his face turn hot, as he struggled not to allow tears to roll down his still grubby cheeks. These weren't his friends.

'How are you feeling?' the girl asked, her voice soft, 'Ron, go and get Madame Pomfrey and – '

'Hermione,' Harry croaked.

The girl's eyes widened. 'How do you – '

Harry let out a barking laugh, which quickly deteriorated into a coughing fit.

With a whispered, 'Aguamenti,' the girl who looked like Hermione filled a glass stood on the cabinet beside Harry, and handed it to him.

'Thank you,' he murmured, allowing the ice cold water to sooth his throat.

'Better?' the girl asked, still speaking in hushed tones.

Harry nodded.

The boy who looked like Ron coughed and Harry turned to look at him, causing the boy's cheeks and ears to turn red.

At that moment, the woman who looked like Madame Pomfrey made her reappearance.

'Good,' she said, 'You're awake. How are you feeling?'

Harry made to shrug, and then hissed in pain as his shoulder shifted on the pillow.

The woman was immediately at his side, casting diagnostic spells over his body. 'I didn't want to do anything while you were asleep,' she explained. 'Merlin knows what that thing was. We weren't sure you'd make it through the night...' She shuddered, 'didn't want to make things worse by bombarding you with magic.'

Harry merely nodded. He had seen the spell which had caused the damage to his leg before, but didn't know the name of it. He must have been hit with it during the Final Battle. It was dark, dark magic, and resulted in death unless treated. He shivered. Treated. The only way to kill the creature was to burn it before it fully emerged.

'Your shoulder is dislocated – Merlin only knows how you slept with that – you have severe cuts to you face, stomach, legs and arms; in particular your right forearm, and the wound on your leg is still open.'

Harry nodded. 'My feet are cut up too.'

She moved her wand down towards his feet, casting a wave of purple magic across them. 'Yes,' she said, quietly.

Harry nodded again, sinking further into the pillow resting under his head. 'Can you heal them?'

The woman's answer was a wave of magic, which passed softly Harry's body. He felt her focus her energy on the cut on his left cheek, and relaxed into the magic as it slowly knitted the skin back together. She treated the cuts to his face first, then moving on to his stomach, arms, feet and finally his legs. She gave his right knee a wide birth, making sure not to brush up against it with her magic. When the cuts were healed, she passed him a vial out of a pocket of her robe, removing the lid. 'Drink this.'

Harry looked at it, suspiciously.

'It's a bone-ease potion,' she said. 'It will make your bones momentarily pliable, so that I can move your shoulder back into place more easily.'

Sniffing the potion and discovering that it was, indeed, what the woman said it was, Harry tipped the vial down his throat, swallowing the thick, blue potion.

After a few moments, the woman moved her hands to Harry's shoulder. He grimaced, as she took hold of the joint, and cried out, as she eased it back into position.

'There,' she said, removing her hands, 'done.'

'Thank you,' Harry said, his voice still hoarse.

She smiled down at him, before frowning. 'Your knee – ' she said.

'Should be dressed, and then re-dressed every twenty-four hours,' Harry informed her. 'Other than that, it should be left.'

She nodded. 'What was it?' she asked, looking, Harry thought, torn between wanting to know the answer, and feeling repulsed at the very thought of it.

Harry shrugged. 'I don't know the name of it.'

'But you've seen it before?'

He nodded.

'Very well,' the woman said. 'It's a good job you knew what to do. Even if it was... well...' She looked as though she were about to throw up.

'Repulsive?' Harry offered.

'That's one way of putting it,' she agreed. Moving away from the bed, she said, 'I'll just dress your knee and then we'll leave you to rest. We didn't want to touch it last night for fear of damaging it further.'

'Ok,' Harry said, sinking back into his pillow.

'You two,' she said, gesturing at the people who were so like Ron and Hermione, who were hovering near the end of the bed, 'Go and tell Albus that –' She trailed off, looking to Harry, expecting him to fill in the name for her.

Harry hesitated. If he was wrong, if he was still in his world...

Careful. They could be anyone.

'Harry,' he said hesitantly, 'Harry Potter.'

Still half expecting a reaction at the mention of his name, he felt an odd mixture of disappointment and relief wash over him, as it became obvious that no-one in the room had ever heard of him before.

' – that Harry has woken up.'

'You really don't know who I am, do you?' Harry asked, quietly, and Madam Pomfrey, Ron and Hermione all turned to look at him.

'Should we?' Hermione asked.

Harry didn't reply.

'Potter,' Ron was muttering, 'Potter... I know that name. Ah! I know, there was pair of Aurors. Yeah, killed years back. James, I think the guy was. Can't remember his wife's name – '

'Lilly,' Harry whispered. 'Her name was Lily, wasn't it?'

Ron gaped at him. 'Yeah, yeah I think it was. How do you - '

'Madame Pomfrey,' Harry asked, cutting Ron off, 'where are we?'

'Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix,' she replied.

Harry noticed Hermione shooting her a sharp look.

'Albus said he was to be told,' she said, shortly, not even turning to look at Hermione to gauge her reaction.

'Where I come from,' Harry said, his words slow, measured, 'the bedrooms at headquarters aren't nearly so nice.'

'What do you mean, "where you come from"?' Madame Pomfrey asked, sharply, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed Harry.

Harry took a deep breath, closing his eyes, thoughts racing. 'I think,' he started, hesitantly. 'I think... I'm from a different world.'

There was silence.

'Excuse me?' Hermione asked.

'Have you ever heard of inter-dimensional travel?'

'Of course!' she said, affronted, and Harry smiled slightly. 'It's theoretical though, of course. It's when – oh.' A look of dawning comprehension appeared on her face. 'Poppy,' she asked, not taking her eyes off of Harry, 'the Potters; those Aurors Ron was talking about. Were they members of the Order of the Phoenix?'

Madame Pomfrey's eyes widened, apparently picking up on where Hermione was going with this, 'Yes, they were, and Lilly had such bright, green eyes...'

'Wait,' Ron said, brow furrowing in confusion, 'what do they have to do with Harry – '

'Ron, just look,' Hermione breathed, 'don't you remember that photograph of the old Order of the Phoenix that Alastor showed us? The one taken the first time he came to power?'

'Yes, but –'

'There was young couple,' Hermione continued, 'sat in the front row. They must have been the Potters.'

'Yeah, I remember; that guy with all the messy, black hair. But – Oh!'

She smiled, and both her and Ron, and Madame Pomfrey turned to stare at Harry in absolute wonder.

'Harry Potter,' Madame Pomfrey said, sounding dazed. 'Harry Potter. Well I never.'

.o0o.

Sat at the bottom end of the longest table Harry had seen outside of Hogwarts, he could feel the eyes of everyone present fixed upon him, apart from Draco Malfoy, who was currently inspecting his nails. Harry snorted.

'Are you ok, dear?' Mrs Weasley asked, breaking the silence.

'Fine,' Harry assured her, hurriedly, 'I'm fine, thank you Mrs Weasley.'

'Oh,' Mrs Weasley replied, waving her hand at him, 'Molly is fine, dear.'

Harry smiled.

A soft chiming sound brought Harry's attention to the top of the table, where Dumbledore was sat, smiling broadly, a small bell sat on the table in front of him. Harry grinned; it was somehow comforting to know that some things, like Dumbledore's childlike fascination with pretty instruments, remained unchanged no matter the dimension.

'Now that I have your attention,' Dumbledore began, smiling at Harry, 'There are some things we must discuss. This, as some of you know,' – he gestured towards Ron and Hermione - , 'is Harry Potter. You have all heard of inter-dimensional travel, I presume?'

Nods and general murmurs of assent rippled round the table.

'Wonderful,' Dumbledore continued, 'In that case there is less explaining to be done. Harry, we believe, has come to us from another dimension.' Disbelieving gasps went up around the room, which Dumbledore chose to ignore. 'How,' he continued, 'we do not know. Harry, my name is Albus Dumbledore, and we,' - he spread his arms – , 'are the Order of The Phoenix.' Here, Dumbledore stopped speaking, rested his chin on his steepled fingers, and looked politely towards Harry. As the rest of the table looked back from Dumbledore to him, Harry felt his cheeks redden.

'Perfect,' a familiar, upper-class, self-important voice muttered, 'he's a bloody mute - '

'Shut up, Malfoy!'

The boy froze, aristocratic mouth hanging wide open.

Harry laughed, and the boy immediately shut his mouth, glaring at him.

'Seriously, how do you know my name?' he demanded.

'He knew our names too,' Hermione said, gesturing to Ron and herself. 'He must have known you in his own world.'

Malfoy glared at Harry, but it lacked the venom it had held in his world, and Harry looked away.

'Perhaps we could ask you questions, Harry?' Dumbledore continued, 'If you are uncomfortable telling your story from scratch. You, of course, do not have to answer anything you do not wish to.'

Harry nodded.

'Feel free to ask any questions you yourself have, as you so wish.'

Another nod.

'Excellent,' Dumbledore said, clapping his hands together. 'Well then Harry, if I may, how exactly do you believe you arrived here? You gave us quite a fright, I must say; dreadful state you were in, and you simply appeared.'

Harry frowned, his blush deepening. 'I don't know, Professor - '

'Professor?'

'Oh!' Harry said, cheeks now burning, 'Oh, sorry, Sir, only where I came from, you were a teacher at Hogwarts; Headmaster, actually.'

Dumbledore smiled fondly at him, 'Ah yes I was Headmaster here too, Harry. But that was before Lord Voldemort's second rise. Here, you may call me Albus.'

'What?' Harry asked, shocked, ignoring the name change he was invited to use, 'Why aren't you Headmaster anymore?'

'I am afraid,' Albus said, looking grave now, 'that Hogwarts was forced to close, Harry, soon after Lord Voldemort's second rise to power.'

Harry gaped. 'Hogwarts closed? Why?'

'Rufus Scrimgeour, that is to say, our Minister for Magic, decided that Hogwarts was no longer safe. It was closed just two months after Lord Voldemort's return.'

'And when did Voldemort return?' Harry asked, rolling his eyes at the gasps which went up around the table.

'You call him by his name?' Albus asked, his smile back in place. 'Excellent.' He paused here, surveying Harry. 'In answer to your question,' he continued after a few moments, 'Lord Voldemort returned three years ago, during an event called the Triwizard Tournament, which was held at Hogwarts. Did that event exist in your world?'

Harry nodded. 'He came back then in my world too.'

'Indeed?' Albus asked. 'How interesting. It would seem there are certain similarities then. Well, the Minister for Magic at the time was one Cornelius Fudge.'

Harry nodded again, acknowledging the name.

'You know him?'

'He was our Minister for Magic.'

'And how was he?'

Harry snorted. 'Utterly incompetent; and that's being kind. He refused to believe that Voldemort had returned, allowed him a year to gather strength and support before accepting his return, and was finally replaced at the beginning of my sixth year at Hogwarts.'

A stunned silence greeted this speech.

'Ah,' was Albus' response. 'Well, here things happened a little differently. Fudge was replaced immediately after Lord Voldemort's return. The death of the Boy-Who-Lived during the third task of the tournament was apparently enough evidence - '

'What?' Harry cried, incredulous. 'I can't have died. None of you knew who I was!'

Albus frowned lightly at him. 'I don't believe I mentioned you having – Ah.' Comprehension, not dissimilar to that which had appeared on Hermione's face earlier, seemed to dawn on him. 'You are the Boy-Who-Lived? In your world?'

Harry nodded, his eyes wide in confusion. 'Then who - '

'Neville,' an elderly, proud voice interrupted. 'My grandson, Neville Longbottom.'

Harry turned, and found himself looking into the face of Augusta Longbottom; the woman in Dumbledore's memories. The one who had taken Neville in.

'When is your birthday, Harry?' Albus asked, tearing Harry's attention away from the woman who had given such unwavering support to him in his own world.

'Thirty-first of August, sir.'

'Ah. So it could have applied to either one of you,' Albus said, thoughtfully. 'You see,' he continued, 'In our world, Harry, your parents died fighting for the Order not long after they were married. I don't believe thoughts of children had yet entered their minds. A prophecy was made; a prophecy about a child - '

'I know the prophecy, sir,' Harry interjected. 'It was made in this world too?'

'Yes,' another voice cut in. 'Yes, it was made here too; by me, in fact.'

'Professor Trelawney,' Harry said, turning to face her.

'Oh, now none of this Professor business,' she said, looking straight at Harry, 'I haven't taught in fourteen years!'

'Oh,' Harry said, in a small voice. 'Sorry. In my world, you were still teaching.'

'Was I?' Trelawney asked, genuine surprise showing on her face, 'Well then I must have been quite batty! Teaching never was much good for me.'

Harry's blush returned, causing Trelawney to laugh.

'Never mind, dear boy. I never did much like teaching anyway. You must call be Sybill.'

Harry smiled.

'The prophecy,' Sybill continued, 'was one I made, oooh sixteen years back, I think. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies, and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have - '

' – power the Dark Lord knows not, and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies.'

Silence rang in the room as Harry finished the prophecy, reciting word for word what they had all heard countless times over the past years.

'You really are the Boy-Who-Lived?' Ron asked, mouth hanging open.

Harry didn't answer.

'Obviously, numskull,' came another familiar, entirely unwelcome voice.

Harry turned to face Draco Malfoy, eyes narrowed.

'What is your problem?' the other boy demanded, seeing the glare Harry was sending him.

'You, and your obnoxious insults.'

'And who exactly am I supposed to have insulted?'

'Ron!'

Malfoy looked genuinely confused. 'I wasn't insulting him. Well, I was, but he's not offended by it.'

Harry turned to look at Ron, who was, in turn, looking at Harry as though he was slightly unhinged. Slowly, something dawned on Harry. 'You're friends here, aren't you?' he asked, softly.

Both boys nodded.

'We weren't in your world?' Ron asked.

Harry laughed. 'Not exactly, no. You hated each other.'

'What?'

Harry laughed again. 'Well, Malfoy – sorry, Draco, I should probably say - ' he paused -, 'God that sounds weird... Anyway, Draco and I hated each other, to be more exact. School rivals, instant enemies, nemeses to the end... you get the picture.' He paused here, frowning. 'Sorry,' he said, eventually, turning to face Draco, 'But in my world, no offense meant, you were an absolute git.'

Draco spluttered. 'No offense meant? Excuse me?'

'Well you were!' Harry replied, 'You were awful! You were a complete and utter bully, you took the piss out of me at every opportunity, you mocked Ron constantly for his family not having much money,' - he paused here, turning to face Mr Weasley – 'I'm sorry, Mr Weasley, I don't know anything about your situation here; in my world though you weren't particularly well-off. Not that it mattered. It was just that Malfoy was such a snob - '

'I am not a snob!'

'– that he saw it as opportunity to take the crap out of Ron,' Harry finished, ignoring Draco's outburst. 'You looked down on muggleborns, you were snobbish, rude, arrogant, and downright nasty. Oh,' he added, almost as an afterthought, 'and you were a Death Eater.'

'What?' This time the outburst came from half the occupants of the room.

Draco glared at him. 'I absolutely refuse to believe you.'

Harry shrugged. 'Fine, don't believe me. It's not you I'm talking about anyway, I guess. Just someone with the same name, face, conceited manner – '

'That's it!' Within seconds Draco had his wand drawn, pointing directly at Harry. 'Densaugeo!'

But Harry, reflexes heightened by the war he had fought through, was too quick. With a wave of his hand, an invisible shield was raised around him. The spell bounced of the shield and ricocheted off towards the other side of the room. Albus motioned his wand towards the ray of light, banishing it with a smooth flick of his wrist, whilst the rest of the Order looked on in silent awe.

'That is quite enough, Harry, Draco.'

Both boys scowled at each other, before nodding in acknowledgment of Albus's warning.

'So you survived the Triwizard Tournament?' a soft voice asked, interrupting the silent glaring competition Harry and Draco were engaged in, and Harry turned to see Augusta Longbottom watching him, apparently having ignored the large part of the conversation since the mention of her late grandson.

'Yes, although it was mainly down to luck.'

'We make our own luck, Harry,' Albus said, gravely, 'You must be congratulated on such a feat. Now I do believe,' he continued, 'that we have become rather sidetracked from my initial question. How do you believe you arrived here?'

'I don't know,' Harry repeated. 'The Battle had ended - '

'Battle?' Albus asked.

'The Final Battle,' Harry replied, a slight smile appearing on his face. 'We did it, we defeated him.'

'Who, Harry,' Albus asked quickly, leaning forward on the table, barely disguised excitement on his lined face, 'who did you defeat?'

Harry grinned. 'Voldemort.'